


To Look Upon Your Face

by Dexterous_Sinistrous



Series: Underworld [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allison Argent & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Alternate Universe - Underworld, Alternate Universe - Vampire, BAMF Allison, BAMF Stiles, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Flashbacks, Full Shift Werewolves, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, M/M, Memory Loss, Minor Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Minor Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sexual Content, Vampire Allison Argent, Vampire Lydia Martin, Vampire Stiles Stilinski, Werewolf Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-11 21:08:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 36,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4452440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dexterous_Sinistrous/pseuds/Dexterous_Sinistrous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Great War between Vampires and Lycans has raged for more than 1,000 years. With the murder of his beloved still haunting his every waking moment, Derek Hale continues to fight Gerard's forces from the shadows. Yet for the past few centuries, an end to the war seems nonexistent. However, there is a new hope on the horizon—Scott McCall. There is something unique about Scott's blood, and the way he reacts to the bite.</p><p>As the Lycans track down Scott with hopes of purifying themselves and the Vampries—ripping immortality from them all—Death Dealers work to continue their focused mission: hunt the Lycans down, one by one, until they are extinct.</p><p>There just happens to be a problem: Stiles—a Vampire with no memory of how he came to be—of all people, recognizes Derek, just as Allison—Death Dealer and granddaughter of Vampire Elder Gerard—grows more and more attached to Scott, despite his ties to the Lycans.</p><p>[Based off of <em>Underworld</em>]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: The Great War

**Author's Note:**

> As I mentioned in _Eternity and A Day_ this AU is a direct result of the lovely [mgnemesi](http://mgnemesi.tumblr.com)'s [artwork](http://mgnemesi.tumblr.com/post/96099412433/sterek-underworld-the-rise-of-the-lycans-au) for a _Underworld: Rise of the Lycans_ Sterek AU.
> 
> The primary focus is on Stiles & Derek, however Allison & Scott are pretty heavily featured in this story.
> 
> As I said in the summary, this is based off of _Underworld_ , however there are many twists and turns added to it, altering the story and fates of characters. As always, I hope you enjoy the ride.

_The war was being brought to an end in the blink of an eye, and as a result, had become more brutal—the weapons becoming more advanced as both sides perfected ways to kill one another. In short, nothing, not even time, stopped the Vampires and Lycans from tearing each other apart._

_All events of Derek’s Rebellion had been expunged from the Vampire’s historical texts, all except the death of Prince Stiles. After seducing the young prince with honeyed words and loving actions, Derek was freed to build his army and wreak havoc on the Vampires. It was written that by Derek’s own hand, Stiles was put to death—exposed to the sunlight._

_Or so Gerard claims._

_Peter, Vampire Elder and uncle of Derek, disappeared from sight that night, only whispers in the dark being spoken about his location. His true motivations are unknown to both Lycan and Vampire._

_As the war raged on, Derek’s forces outnumbered the Vampires, consisting of both Lycan and wolves, Derek’s own howl controlling the previously mindless wolves._

_Centuries had passed since Kate, daughter of Gerard, claimed that she had set the fire that burned the Lycans and their stronghold to the ground. She claimed that Derek was amongst the singed ruins. Without an Alpha to guide them, the Lycans fell into disarray and hiding. As they grew fewer in number, the Vampires easily dispatched nest after nest of them, outnumbering them in both Death Dealers and weapons._

_Or so the Vampires were led to believe …_


	2. I Knew Him

The rain was heavy that night, pouring down in a thick sheet, soaking pedestrians to the bone. But the young woman perched on the balcony could easily make out the group of Lycans marching along the string of shops along the main street. She leaned forward, her dark hair falling into her face as she focused her eyesight. She turned to look across the towering buildings, catching sight of the young man taking photographs.

As if on cue, the young man turned to look at her. He secured his camera, giving her an affirming nod. He waited until she nodded back before he stood. He surveyed the crowd below them before he stepped off of the ledge, allowing himself to free-fall down to the ground.

The young woman followed suit, falling through the air before she effortlessly landed on her feet, walking away from her landing spot as if she had taken a simple step off a curb. She moved through the crowd, keeping her eyes on the Lycans as she followed after them.

“Allison,” the man with the camera quietly called to her, taking a spot by her side. His eyes flickered over to the Lycans, watching them easily move through the crowd.

“They’re up to something,” Allison replied, allowing the humans to push by her. The streets were crowded, not the optimal location for a skirmish to take place.

“Looking for more recruits,” the man replied, taking his time to avoid contact with the humans.

They both stopped, leaning against the bus stop when they noticed the Lycans stepping off into a store. Allison moved to sit on the empty bench, her eyes flickering from the shop to the young vampire in front of her. She watched as he ignored the rain crashing down on his shoulders.

Allison’s grandfather warned her time after time to keep an eye on him, uncertain what his loyalties were. She scrunched her nose at the memory, confident that her grandfather was overreacting.

“What were you and Lydia talking about earlier?” Allison finally asked.

The young man kept his eyes on the shop, still leaning against the bus stop’s frame. “My name.”

“Ah,” Allison replied, understanding why he was so on edge.

“Yep,” the young man dragged the syllables out, emphasizing the ‘p’ with a popping sound.

Allison knew it meant he wanted to drop it. But she was curious. “So, what do I call you now?” She smiled when he finally looked at her.

“Stiles,” he finally stated before returning his sight to the shop.

“You’re okay with it now?” Allison questioned, knowing how much he refused to use the name when her grandfather first used it.

“I figured what danger could a dead prince’s name still hold,” Stiles shrugged.

“I heard he was one of a kind,” Allison sighed, recalling stories her father told her.

“I haven’t heard anything, really,” Stiles honestly replied.

“Gerard says he died a hero,” Allison paused, looking back up at Stiles. If it bothered him to hear about the prince, he didn’t show it.

“He didn’t really do anything courageous,” Stiles replied.

“Derek murdered him,” Allison offered.

“Being murdered doesn’t make you a hero,” Stiles challenged her.

“They tortured him before exposing him to the sunlight,” Allison explained. “Whipped to the bone. My grandfather doesn’t like talking about it. He feels responsible, I guess.”

Stiles released an annoyed huff, wanting nothing more than to punch Gerard in the face. The Elder held only contempt for everyone and everything that wasn’t a Vampire. He had created a valiant story about how he escaped from Derek’s murderous claws, how the council and the prince died because of Derek’s lack of mercy. It all painted Gerard in positive light—too positive for Stiles’ liking.

Stiles was thankful when the Lycans emerged from the shop to continue onward. He nodded to Allison, gaining her attention as they moved to follow after them.

~*~

Scott moved quickly, keeping pace with Derek and Isaac. It didn’t take long before they reached the city’s main street, just beyond the Preserve. Scott didn’t make an attempt to ask any more questions, confident that he was safer with Derek and Isaac than the group of others chasing after him. He kept a close eye on Derek’s back, inspecting the details of his leather jacket, committing it to memory as he struggled to focus on anything but the panic boiling deep in his chest. He was happy Isaac kept pace behind him, keeping him guarded on two sides.

Derek paused, moving them to stand by one of the many benches housed on the sidewalk. His eyes scanned the crowd several times before he finally caught sight of a few other Lycans moving towards them. He nodded, catching one of their eyes, waiting until they gave the clear.

“What’s happening?” Scott asked Isaac, his entire body feeling antsy at being left in the dark.

“We have to be careful when heading to our base. Derek shouldn’t even be out,” Isaac explained. He gave a shy shrug when Derek shot him a scowl that told him to shut up.

“Is he the leader?” Scott questioned.

“Yeah,” Isaac replied. “He keeps us going.”

Derek ignored their small talk, focusing on the others headed towards them. He suddenly snapped his head to attention when he caught a familiar scent. He closed his eyes, turning his head up as he inhaled deeply. There were too many smells coming from the bustling crowd, the restaurants, the cars—it was all too much. But the scent was still there, faint but unmistakable.

 _Stiles_.

Derek opened his eyes, irises bleeding red as he scanned the crowd. There had been weeks, months, centuries even, after Stiles’ death when Derek could swear he still smelt his scent. It was always a lie, just a figment of Derek’s mourning. He had grown accustom to it, but never stopped hoping, that somehow it was real. He sighed, knowing that his brain was playing tricks on him— _probably the adrenaline_.

The two Lycans who were headed towards them suddenly stilled. The humans forced to walk around them, abruptly thrown off guard with how the two men were suddenly obstructing the flow. One of the Lycans looked behind them, scanning the crowd before he caught sight of Allison.

~*~

Stiles was beside Allison, languidly moving through the crowd. He hated having to track Lycans through crowds of humans, knowing their discretion meant the difference between life and death for the innocent crowd.

Stiles’ stomach churned when the Lycans suddenly stopped moving. He quickly moved to the side, hiding from view. He was confident they weren’t seen, only to have his hopes dashed when he realized Allison was still moving forward. He moved to grab her, realizing it was too late when the Lycan roared.

“Vamp!” The Lycan yelled in warning.

Allison was quick enough to dodge out of the way when the Lycan opened fire. She looked at Stiles, actually shocked that the Lycan were firing amongst a crowd of humans. She drew her gun, nodding at Stiles to communicate that she was prepared.

Stiles nodded back, drawing both his guns before he calmly stood, spinning out from behind cover. He aimed above the rushing crowd as the humans scrambled, aiming for the Lycan firing at Allison. He opened fire, squeezing off a few rounds as he systematically moved forward. He easily gained ground, catching the Lycans off guard. He swiftly made his way over to Allison, easily making it across the sidewalk to her position as he laid down suppressing fire.

Allison moved the moment Stiles reached her. She dashed out from behind Stiles, walking faster than he had as she fired at the second Lycan. They both kept pace with one another, easily gaining ground, as they got closer to the Lycans.

They heard a loud roar, causing them to wince in pain from the sound. They both knew it was supposed to be impossible, yet it was the sound of an Alpha calling their Betas back. Their suspicions were confirmed when the two Lycans looked behind them.

Stiles reacted first, throwing his shuriken at the retreating Lycans. He quickly reloaded when he realized he wounded one Lycan enough to slow him down. He turned his head when he heard the police sirens coming from down the street behind them. He looked at Allison, nodding as she quickly moved forward to grab the injured Lycan for questioning.

Stiles caught sight of a few other Lycans, helping the second Lycan escape from the situation. A curly haired one was helping the Lycan into one of the alleyways, looking up at a tall man in a leather jacket barking orders at him.

Stiles aimed his gun at the man in the leather jacket, opening fire the minute the man turned to look at the human cowering next to him.

The first bullet hit the Lycan in the shoulder, forcing him to stumble to the side. The second bullet hit his neck. The third hit his chest, causing him to turn towards Stiles.

That was when Stiles caught sight of the pendant dangling around the man’s neck. It jostled around from the man’s erratic movements, flying out from beneath his shirt. It sparked something in Stiles’ brain.

Stiles froze, his finger unable to pull the trigger again, as if the pendant was weighing his entire body down to his spot.

But it wasn’t just the pendant that Stiles somehow remembered but didn’t. The man was hauntingly familiar. His features were rugged, amplified by his beard and unruly hair. A strong jaw and cheekbones topped off his remarkably unforgettable features.

A flash of fogginess ran through his mind, catching sight of lips close to his own, a smile that could take his breath away. The words ‘I love you’ being mouthed before those lips dipped down to press against his own. He could feel the pendant pressing into his skin, he could feel the metal chain of the pendant around his neck.

Stiles was ripped from the memory when a body tackled him to the side, narrowly shoving him out of the line of fire. He furiously looked at who tackled him, prepared to kill the enemy, only to find that it was another Vampire. He mutely nodded when she asked him if he was alright before she ran off to assist Allison.

Stiles took a deep breath before leaning out of cover, noticing that the Lycan he shot was gone, nowhere to be seen. He sighed, leaning back under cover as he slammed his head against the brick wall in anger.

 _I knew him_ …

~*~

“What the hell happened?” Erica questioned when Derek walked in, carrying one of the men over his shoulder.

“We were attacked,” Isaac stated, helping the wounded Lycan sit down, examining the shuriken lodged in his leg.

“I can see that,” Deaton dryly replied as he came into the operating room.

“We lost McCall,” Derek replied to Deaton.

“You _lost_ him?” Deaton questioned. “That’s not good.”

“I bit him before he got away,” Derek snapped. “He’ll come to me when the moon starts to pull at him.”

Deaton sighed, shaking his head.

“He was already bitten,” Derek explained, not feeling like having that conversation with Deaton again. “His wolf will look for an Alpha before he goes looking for a random feral Beta.”

“I hope the Vampires don’t kill him,” Deaton replied, examining the Lycan Derek laid on the table. “He’s dead. The bullets were in for too long. He has wolfsbane coursing through his veins, making regeneration impossible at this point.” He looked at Derek. “How about we take a look,” he gestured to the bullet holes in Derek’s shoulder, neck and chest.

Derek shook his head. “I’m fine. Help him,” he stated as he passed the injured Lycan, heading off to the back in order to wash his blood away. He was scrubbing away at his hands when he heard Isaac clear his throat.

“Derek,” Isaac started. “Did you … did you see the Vampire that shot you?” He nervously questioned as he scuffed the toe of his shoe against the ground.

“I didn’t get a chance to,” Derek replied. “The girl, Allison”—he frowned, knowing that she was Gerard’s granddaughter—“She was closing in on me, and Scott was panicking. I tried to get him to follow but he wouldn’t, so I bit him. Allison pulled him out of my grasp.”

Isaac nodded, worrying his bottom lip.

Derek paused his scrubbing as the silence between them grew. He quickly rinsed the soap from his hands before turning the water off. He turned to look at Isaac, wiping his hands on the towel as he observed his Beta. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Isaac replied. “I thought I saw someone … something. But I’m not sure.”

“What did you think you saw?” Derek slowly questioned.

“I thought I saw …” Isaac looked up at Derek, his eyes wide as they pleaded with Derek to believe him. “I thought I saw him.”

Derek waited a moment before inquiring, “Who?”

“Stiles,” Isaac finally said his name.

“That’s impossible, Isaac, and you know it,” Derek replied, turning his back on Isaac as he leaned against the sink.

“I know; you buried him. But I could have sworn—” Isaac stopped when he heard the sink groan under Derek’s grip. “I’m sorry. You’re right, it’s impossible.” He ducked his head, quickly exiting the room to leave Derek alone.

Derek let his head hang, trying to push the thoughts from his mind. None of the others mentioned Stiles since his death, no one wanting to upset him. But he could have sworn the scent today was Stiles’—that it was stronger than his normal hallucinations. And to have Isaac mention that he thought he saw him made everything even more complicated. He sighed, trying to keep himself from growing hopeful that somehow, by some miracle, Stiles was still alive—that the body Derek buried under the roots of their oak tree somehow wasn’t Stiles.

It wasn’t hard to wipe the thoughts from his mind—Derek stopped having hope centuries ago.

~*~

Stiles crouched by the area the man he shot had stumbled. He inspected the ground, frowning because he knew there were no clues here about the man’s identity. He knew he was a Lycan, the way he easily remained standing after the three bullets struck him.

“Stiles?” Allison’s voice broke through his thoughts, causing him to stand up and abandon his mission to discover the man’s identity.

“Sorry, what’s happening?” Stiles asked as his vision scanned the horizon, knowing they didn’t have long before the sunlight arrived, along with the police.

“This kid was being dragged by the Lycan you shot,” Allison gestured towards the unconscious human she had her arm wrapped around.

“I’m guessing you knocked him out,” Stiles sighed, catching the sound of the police scanners within range of them.

“Makes it faster than trying to persuade,” Allison replied with a smile.

“Right,” Stiles nodded, hesitating as Allison started to head down the street and towards one of the various alleys.

“Stiles, we only have about twenty minutes before sun up,” Allison wearily called after him.

“Coming,” Stiles replied, looking back at where the skirmish took place, making up his mind that he had to do his own investigating if he wanted to know who the man was. He quickly ran after Allison, narrowly ducking out of sight as the police cars rounded the corner.

~*~

Derek remained silent as he leaned his arms against his knees, listening to his fellow Lycans bicker amongst themselves. He was lost in thought when a hand on his shoulder startled him from his own memories.

“How are you holding up?” Boyd questioned as he sat next to Derek.

“Fine,” Derek lied.

“Of course,” Boyd mused, his gaze following Derek’s as they both watched the others.

“Did Isaac talk to you?” Derek finally broke the silence between them.

“Yes,” Boyd honestly replied, knowing Derek would hear his lie.

“I’ll tell you what I told him: it’s impossible, and you know it,” Derek sternly replied.

“You buried him,” Boyd reasoned.

“Exactly,” Derek growled under his breath.

“And you buried a piece of yourself with him,” Boyd added.

“Only the part that couldn’t keep living,” Derek replied.

“You think this is living?” Boyd asked as he turned to look at Derek. “This isn’t living, Derek. This is vengeance being driven by fumes.”

“Fumes?” Derek arched his eyebrows, daring Boyd to question just how much pain he still felt at the mention of Stiles.

“You admitted yourself, you buried him,” Boyd explained. “You buried him and a piece of yourself. So why are we still fighting, Derek?”

Derek remained silent, standing up as he watched Isaac and Erica playfully sparring with one another. “Because a monster like Gerard can’t be left alive in the world.”

“What if Gerard—” Boyd ducked his head, unwilling to admit his speculations.

“I wouldn’t put it past Gerard to sire a Vampire in order to trick me,” Derek finished his thought for him.

“Then you think Isaac actually saw a look alike?” Boyd questioned.

“Doesn’t matter,” Derek replied. “I know in my heart that it’s not him. A pale imitation isn’t going to fool me.” He turned to look at Boyd. “Once we have McCall, we’ll be able to bring an end to both species and start life anew.”

“I hope you’re right,” Boyd sighed, voice tired yet hopeful.

It was the last thing Derek had hope in. It had to be right.

~*~

Stiles helped Allison carry the unconscious man into her room, gently laying him out across the futon on the foot of Allison’s bed. He studied the young man’s features, immediately catching sight of his crooked jaw and the way his eyelashes laid contrasted against his tan skin. He frowned, wondering if this human somehow knew the Lycan Stiles had shot during the skirmish.

“What do you think the Lycans wanted with him?” Allison questioned as she moved to kneel by the man’s side, quickly inspecting his limbs for any major injuries. Both of them could smell the blood on him, but neither were sure if it was his or another’s.

“No telling until he wakes up,” Stiles sighed.

“You know he saved me,” Allison suddenly confessed as she continued to scan his features.

“What?” Stiles asked in surprise.

“That Lycan, the one you shot,” Allison explained. “He was ready to kill me. _He_ saved me,” she gestured towards the man. “He pushed me back out of the way. I could have sworn that Lycan—” She stopped herself, fingers frozen as they clutched the collar of the man’s shirt. She was staring at his neck, eyes wide with shock.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles questioned, moving to lean over Allison’s shoulder. His eyes widened when he saw the bite mark deep in the human’s shoulder.

“He’s not a human,” Allison nearly whispered.

“He’s a Lycan,” Stiles grimly concluded.

“What are we going to do? Everyone knows he’s here,” Allison stated in a hurry, standing up to place room between her and the man.

“You don’t want to kill him?” Stiles questioned, turning to look at Allison.

Allison looked from Stiles back to the human. “No, he—he may know something of value.”

Stiles heard the concern in her voice, but gave her the benefit of the doubt. He nodded.

The young man startled both of them when he suddenly gasped, his body jerking to life. He looked from Allison to Stiles, slowly trying to scramble his way backwards in order to get away from them. He only succeeded in almost tumbling straight off the futon.

“Be calm,” Allison instructed him, holding her hands up in a placating manner.

“You tell me to be calm when two people I don’t know are looming over me,” the man quickly stated, eyes darting quickly between Stiles and Allison.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Allison stated.

Stiles looked at Allison before looking at the man. He offered a small shrug of reassurance.

“Why is my head splitting?” the man questioned as he lifted a hand to his head, wincing when he felt a deep wound next to his temple.

“You bumped your head,” Allison offered.

Stiles was proud when he managed to muffle his laugh. _Much easier than explaining why you knocked him out_.

“My name is Allison,” Allison offered. “This is Stiles,” she gestured towards Stiles, who gave the man a small wave.

“Um, Scott—Scott McCall,” the young man replied.

“Okay,” Allison allowed a small smile to cross her lips. “Well, Scott—Scott McCall, you should get some rest. We need to speak with you about a few things.”

“What about—”

“Sleep, Scott,” Stiles stated. “You’ll feel better later.”

They both waited until Scott’s eyes fluttered shut, his breathing evening out as his heartbeat slowed down, signaling that he was asleep.

“We won’t get a great deal of information from him if he never wakes up again,” Stiles sighed.

“I’ll stay with him,” Allison offered. “Come and get you once he wakes up.”

Stiles carefully eyed Allison before nodding once more. He didn’t want to leave Allison alone with a Lycan-bitten human, but she left him little choice. He desperately needed to start researching who that man was, and now was the perfect time to dedicate to that.

Stiles cast one last look over his shoulder, watching the way Allison ran her fingertips over Scott’s forehead, pushing his hair from his face. He frowned as something pulled at his heart—a forgotten memory of brushing his own fingertips over another’s forehead in order to push a few locks of unruly hair away.

If all these flashbacks meant anything, it was that a life he once lived with someone was taken from Stiles, and he planned on finding out just who that someone was.

~*~

Stiles slipped into the library, ignoring the way the room had been neglected over the decades, none of the other Vampires interested in the knowledge the room held. He headed towards the back, easily breaking the lock to the backroom that housed the old texts. He stood in front of the oldest text, looking over its warped cover. He noticed how the Argent seal was burned into the cover, an obvious attempt to ward the other Vampires from reading its content.

Using the butt of his gun, Stiles smashed the glass protecting the book. He tucked it under his arm, heading back to his room. He was determined to find the answers Gerard was keeping from him and the others. He tightly closed the door behind him, wishing to avoid being interrupted by the others.

Stiles sat at his desk, placing his laptop to the side in favor of the book. He sighed, removing his coat before leaning his elbows against the desk. He looked down at the book, knowing he was crossing a line he was meant to never even tread near. He ignored the warning, cutting open the seal. He slowly turned the pages, eyes scanning the text. He observed the different drawings, noting how most of them depicted the Lycans as heinously as possible.

Stiles paused when he caught sight of a portrait. He smoothed the pages out under his fingertips, tracing the outline of the picture. He frowned at the condition of the page, tracing the burned edges with his fingertips. It was an intentional burn, destroying more than half of the page, including the man’s face. The man however was wearing the exact same pendant that the man from earlier had. He gently grazed his fingers over the pendant, memorizing the curves of the necklace. It was hauntingly familiar, yet he couldn’t recall how he knew it.

“What are you doing?” A voice questioned, footsteps coming closer to Stiles.

“Reading, what else does it look like?” Stiles answered, eyes still fixed on the text. He ignored Lydia when she sat down on the edge of his desk.

“Someone broke into the archives,” Lydia started. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“How unfortunate that someone broke into the archives to look at things that no one has looked at in centuries,” Stiles dryly replied.

“That someone took the historical text,” Lydia continued.

“It’s unfortunate no one knows what that text looks like,” Stiles finally looked up at Lydia as he spoke. “Would make finding it a lot easier.”

“Why did you take it, Stiles?” Lydia questioned, dropping her act.

Stiles sighed, turning the text to show it to Lydia. “I need to know about this,” he pointed to the pendant as he spoke. “And who this man is.”

Lydia’s eyes briefly widened before she looked away from the text.

Stiles sat up straighter, noting how Lydia reacted. “You know who that is,” he commented.

“I know who the pendant belongs to,” Lydia admitted. “If you used your eyes and read, you would too.” She pressed a manicured fingernail against the drawing, running it across the coarse paper until the fiery red of her nail was pointing at the name just underneath the drawing.

 _Portrait of Derek Hale, murderous traitor and rebel leader of the Lycans_.

Stiles remained silent, frowning as he thought of the implications.

“Now, do you mind telling me what this is all about?” Lydia asked as she leaned her hands back against the desk.

“I saw a man tonight,” Stiles started. “He had dark onyx hair, a beard. Green eyes.” He rubbed his hands over his face, trying to scrub away the image of the Lycan he shot earlier. No matter how hard he tried, the image of the man was burned into the backs of his eyelids.

“And?” Lydia questioned, her tone slightly annoyed with Stiles’ story telling abilities.

“And,” Stiles angrily snapped, jabbing his finger at the pendant. “He was wearing _this_ pendant. And when I saw it, I was paralyzed by flashbacks. I’ve seen this pendant before—this man.”

“Stiles, that’s impossible,” Lydia replied.

“Is it? Is it also impossible for a person with no memory to be born to look like someone who died centuries ago?” Stiles started, his anger at the past centuries all boiling down into this moment. “That I have nightmares of a man screaming my name—the prince’s name.”

“We piece realities together when we dream,” Lydia offered.

“Stop it!” Stiles yelled, slamming his hands against the desk. The suddenness of the action startled Lydia. “Stop protecting me from whatever happened! You know what really happened back then. You knew Prince Stiles better than anyone, didn’t you?”

“Stiles—”

“Stop calling me that name if you aren’t going to help me remember!” Stiles yelled. “Who was that man tonight? Who was he to me? Why—” He paused, rubbing a hand over his mouth as he tried to formulate his words without breaking down. “Why do I remember this, and _nothing_ else?” he asked, pointing at the pendant.

Lydia frowned, looking away from Stiles as she moved from the desk. She crossed her arms over her stomach as she moved to look out the window. The sun was already about to go down, the darkened windows the only barrier between them and the last burning rays of daylight.

“I met Stiles when I was eight,” Lydia started, leaning against the wall by the window as she watched the blocked out sun start to fall behind the trees. “I became his servant, keeping him company whenever his studies were finished. We were both lonely children born into a realm that expected so much from us. Stiles was the crowned prince to the Vampires; I was the child of a noble human family who was offered immortality.”

“You fell in love?” Stiles questioned, his voice hoarse from his earlier yelling.

“Yes—well, not with each other,” Lydia explained. “I became fond of Jackson—a human servant given to the council as tribute from one of the neighboring human clans.” She frowned at the memory. “Stiles started to spend time with Derek Hale. It was forbidden, of course—Stiles was a Vampire prince, while Derek was a Lycan slave. But I had never seen Stiles happier than the days he spent with Derek. At first it was just snuck conversations between meals or whenever Stiles could find Derek. But then they started to arrange meetings with each other.” She turned her head to look at Stiles. There were tears in her eyes as she recalled those simpler times—before Gerard started the war. “He begged me to keep their secret. I helped him sneak out to meet Derek, keeping their secret as if it was my own.”

Stiles’ eyes drifted from Lydia to look at the book. “If Derek loved him, then why would he kill him?”

“He didn’t,” Lydia tearfully replied. She wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Gerard … he found out about them. He orchestrated a plan to put both Derek and the prince to death. He wanted to make an example—to have a cautionary tale to spin if any other Vampires dared hope to have any relationship with a Lycan. He lied to Jon about it.”

Stiles took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he tried to see the logic in Gerard’s actions, except there was none to be found.

“He burned him alive,” Lydia continued. “He forced Derek to watch as he exposed Stiles to the sunlight.” She closed her eyes at the memory, trying to block it out. “Sometimes, I can still hear Derek screaming.”

“Why did you never say anything?” Stiles questioned.

“Because if Gerard knew that I knew the truth, I would be dead. I had planned to tell you, but … the day I meant to was the same day Kate came back with news of Derek’s death.”

“If Derek’s dead, then who was that man wearing the pendant?” Stiles cautiously asked.

“That’s the thing,” Lydia answered as she opened her eyes to look at Stiles. “I don’t think he’s dead. I think the Lycan you shot last night _was_ Derek Hale.”

“If he’s still alive, then the Lycans aren’t as lost as we think,” Stiles replied.

“If that was him tonight, you need to see him—to talk to him,” Lydia started. “He knows everything that happened.”

“What’s the point of me reliving another person’s life?” Stiles questioned.

“It might not be another person’s life,” Lydia pressed.

Stiles’ eyes scanned hers. “You said Gerard burned him to death. I can’t be—”

“We’re immortals, Stiles,” Lydia started. “There is no telling of what limits we have. Perhaps Derek found a way.”

“If it was Derek, he would have come for me,” Stiles stated.

“Maybe it was another,” Lydia offered. “Someone who thought they could use you against Derek.”

Stiles was about to ask Lydia how any of this could be possible when the alarm started to blare loudly. They both moved towards his door to check the hallway when Allison came bursting through the doors, Scott in tow.

“I have to get him out of here,” Allison pleaded with urgency.

Stiles looked at Lydia briefly before looking at Scott. He released an aggravated sigh before moving to close the doors behind Allison. “The window.”


	3. Belief Without Trust

Allison was carefully watching Scott as he slept, slowly worrying her bottom lip as every single one of her instincts told her to end his life. Her brain screamed at her to go to her grandfather, to let him know that she apprehended a Lycan before he turned. Images of Scott being chained and tortured like the other Lycans suddenly flooded her mind. She released an aggravated huff of annoyance before she turned her attention away from Scott.

For the past few centuries, Allison dedicated almost every night to hunting down the Lycans. She had learned all the battle techniques necessary to fight them and win. She hated them with such a fury that she never thought it possible for her to stay her hand from wordlessly executing one.

Perhaps Allison’s anger was not as much a justification as her grandfather led her to believe.

Allison recalled the night she met Stiles, immediately drawn to him as he remained on the outskirts of the other Vampires and their cliques. She enjoyed spending time with him as they trained and hunted together. She was one of the few to ever experience Stiles’ night terrors at their full strength, almost always unable to wake him as he tossed and turned before screaming himself awake.

“Who are you?” Scott’s voice startled Allison from her thoughts.

Allison turned her attention towards Scott, noticing that he was sitting up as he looked at her. She moved to lean against her desk, keeping a good amount of distance between them.

“We’re keeping you safe from the Lycans,” Allison stated.

“Lycans,” Scott sighed. “Is that what the guy was who … bit me?” He hesitated in asking, the act of saying what happened aloud sounded even more ridiculous than thinking it.

“Yeah,” Allison sighed.

“What does that mean?” Scott questioned.

“It means that when the full moon waxes, you’ll change,” Allison explained. “You’ll give into the bite, you’ll feed, and you’ll kill.”

“Is there no way to stop it?” Scott questioned, pinching the bridge of his nose as another sharp pang stabbed through his skull.

“Could chain you up,” Allison offered.

“I don’t want this,” Scott suddenly admitted.

“A lot of things happen to us that we don’t want,” Allison curtly replied.

Scott winced as another flashback ran through his mind, catching flickering images of being in a cell, of forging weapons, of someone who looked exactly like the man from earlier— _Stiles_.

“Why am I having … hallucinations?” Scott finally asked.

“They’re images past on from the Lycan that bit you,” Allison explained.

“Are you and Stiles Lycans?” Scott asked as he looked up at Allison.

“No,” Allison immediately replied.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you,” Scott honestly apologized.

“Lycans are our enemy,” Allison stated. “We’re sworn to kill them on sight.”

Scott hesitated, unsure if he should risk it. He decided that his fate was already tangled enough, there was no harm tangling it some more. “Why haven’t you killed me?”

“I was hoping you could tell us some things,” Allison shifted her weight as she spoke. “Perhaps explain to us why that Lycan was so adamant on keeping you with him.”

“I honestly don’t know,” Scott replied. “They found me wandering the woods, trying to get away from a handful of people dressed in leather—they actually looked really similar to you.”

“Death Dealers were tracking you?” Allison asked in confusion.

“I guess,” Scott uncertainly answered.

“This doesn’t—” Allison started, only to stop when the doors suddenly opened, giving way to a fellow Death Dealer. “What do you want?” She sharply asked as she stood, making her way to stand between Scott and the other Vampire.

“Your grandfather wishes to see both you and the Lycan,” the Death Dealer curtly replied.

“He’s human,” Allison lied.

“The other Death Dealers returned prior to you and Stiles,” she countered. “They reported to Gerard that he was bitten. The Elder demands to speak with you both about this.”

“If my grandfather is in such a talkative mood, he can come here,” Allison replied. She crossed her arms over her chest as she challenged the Death Dealer to try and make her leave.

“I’ll tell Gerard your answer,” she replied in an exasperated tone.

Allison waited for the door to close before she turned to collect her guns and coat. “We have to go. Now,” she sternly commanded as she grabbed Scott by his bicep to lead him towards the door.

“What’s happening?” Scott questioned.

“The only reason my grandfather wants to talk to you, is to make it easier for him to put a bullet in your skull,” Allison stated, listening for the sounds of others in the hallway before she dared to open the door.

“Why?”

“Because as Vampires, we tend to eliminate Lycans rather than talk to them,” Allison almost snapped.

“Vampires?” Scott asked in confusion.

Instead of explaining, Allison turned to look at Scott, her eyes flaring their icy blue as she allowed her fangs to descend. “Two immortal races in an endless war.”

“And I’m stuck in the middle,” Scott replied.

“Which is why we have to get you out of here,” Allison confirmed.

~*~

“So, Gerard was going to kill the only evidence we have that the Lycans are up to something,” Stiles started. “Convenient.”

“Whatever his plans are, I’m sure Lydia will discover some way to counter them,” Allison replied.

Stiles checked his clip one last time before sliding it back into his gun, pulling the slide back to place a bullet in the chamber. His eyes flickered between Allison and Scott, carefully watching both of them. He knew what they were doing was stupid, that Gerard’s anger would find them before they were able to defend themselves. Lydia offered to stay behind in the mansion to discover some way of fixing everything. They all knew that this safe house wouldn’t be safe the longer they sat here doing nothing.

“Why do you hunt them?” Scott suddenly questioned, speaking for the first time since they left the Coven behind.

Allison continued to look out the window, ignoring the question.

Scott turned his eyes to land on Stiles.

“I have no memories of being human,” Stiles admitted. “The only memory I have is of Gerard putting a weapon in my hand and telling me that the Lycans were a threat.”

“And that’s enough for you?” Scott questioned.

“Sometimes it has to be,” Stiles replied with a shrug.

Scott nodded, part of him understanding Stiles’ reasoning.

“We’re told that Derek Hale brutally murdered the council of old as well as our prince,” Stiles added, his eyes flickering over to Allison. “The Lycans are meant to be lesser than us, so we try to eliminate them from thinking otherwise.”

“That sounds a little …” Scott paused, trying to think of the correct word.

“Ridiculous, I know,” Stiles sighed, allowing a small silence to grow between them.

“What about you?” Scott asked as he turned his attentions back to Allison.

Allison continued to give him the cold shoulder, already blaming herself for going against her grandfather’s orders to put a bullet in Scott’s head.

Stiles carefully watched Allison, knowing that she didn’t like to talk about how she became a Death Dealer. He always argued that Allison had enough anger and hate of the Lycans for both of them.

“Sorry,” Scott finally said to clear the air. “I just want to know why you’ll want to kill me once I turn into a werewolf. Especially since you both—”

“There was something in the stables,” Allison started, cutting Scott off. “The horses were being torn apart. My father had been away on business for more than a week.” She swallowed down the lump that formed in her throat before continuing. “I was about to run to my mother’s room when…”

Stiles looked away, sometimes glad he couldn’t recall his own memories, especially if they were as painful as Allison’s.

“She was butchered—like an animal,” Allison bitterly stated. “And next thing I knew, my grandfather was there. He had been hunting Derek and his Lycans for days.”

Stiles looked up at the mention of Derek’s name. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, a small shiver in his spine telling him it wasn’t true. Allison had never before mentioned the ending result, only ever stating that Gerard had saved her from the Lycans that killed her mother.

“I’m sorry,” Scott replied, looking away.

“I’m not,” Allison replied. “My grandfather gave me the power to avenge her. I became a Vampire—a Death Dealer that day and haven’t looked back.”

Scott nodded. “You said Derek …”

Stiles’ eyes drifted to look at Scott.

“I’d kill him myself if he was still alive,” Allison replied, her eyes glowing blue at the thought of Derek.

“Derek’s … Derek’s alive,” Scott hesitantly stated.

Allison scoffed, shaking her head. “I think you’re mistaken,” she replied. “My aunt killed him centuries ago—burned him alive.”

“I met him last night,” Scott explained. “He shot him,” he gestured towards Stiles.

“What?” Allison leaned away from the window as she looked from Scott to Stiles.

“The big guy in the leather jacket who bit me right before you grabbed me,” Scott gestured towards his bite as he spoke.

“You’re saying that _that_ was Derek Hale, Alpha of the Lycans?” Allison questioned, closing in on Scott.

“They called him Derek, and Isaac said he was their leader,” Scott explained.

Allison looked at Stiles, shock and confusion covering her features. “Where … where are they?” She questioned as she turned to Scott.

Stiles stood, prepared to get between Allison and Scott. He knew Allison wasn’t acting logically, her mind clouded with the need to murder the man that supposedly hurt her mother.

“I don’t know,” Scott honestly answered.

“Bullshit,” Allison bitterly replied. “He bit you, you know how to find him—he sired you. Now where are they?”

“I told you—”

“Just tell me!” Allison charged into Scott’s personal space, her eyes glaring an icy blue.

“Allison!” Stiles yelled as he got in between them. “He doesn’t know.” He placed his hands on her arms, pulling her away from Scott, forcing her to face him.

“Stiles, he killed my mother,” Allison almost pleaded, wanting to know Derek’s location more than anything.

“I know, but it’s not Scott’s fault,” Stiles replied, coaxing Allison’s anger away.

Allison finally nodded in agreement, the blue fading from her eyes as her shoulders hunched and she moved away from both of them.

Stiles’ phone beeped, bringing them all out of the moment. He quickly checked it, moving to grab his coat.

“Where are you going?” Allison asked.

“Lydia just texted me,” Stiles explained. “She said for just me to come back; to meet her in the council room.” He looked at Allison, eyes flickering to Scott. “It won’t be safe for Scott to go back. Or to be alone.”

Allison reluctantly nodded, agreeing with Stiles’ logic for once.

“Just stay here and try not to kill anyone,” Stiles smiled when Allison rolled her eyes.

~*~

Stiles was hesitant to return to the Coven’s safe house, knowing that the other Death Dealers would be on high alert for him. He knew he was correct when he felt icy fingers violently seizing his arm, yanking him backwards through the hallway. He instinctively moved to twist the hand of the person that tightly grasped him. He was caught off guard when another hand grabbed him by the throat. He clawed at the wrist of the hand that held him, trying to pry it off for enough room to breathe.

“And where are you headed?” Gerard questioned with a small hint of a smile.

Stiles ignored his question, trying to pull Gerard’s grip away from him. “To speak with Lydia in the council room,” he honestly admitted when the Elder refused to release him.

“I don’t know where you have hidden away my granddaughter and that dog, but you will stop playing games,” Gerard snapped.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Stiles defiantly replied. He winced when Gerard dug his nails into his neck.

“I gave you immortality, I can take it,” Gerard replied.

Stiles let his eyes bleed blue, acting completely on instinct alone as he punched Gerard directly in the face, causing the Elder to stumble backwards. He took that as his opportunity and ran down the hallway, past the onlookers. He ignored Gerard and others calling his name. He dashed into the council room, panicking when he didn’t see Lydia.

“Lydia?” Stiles called her name, hesitating in entering the room further when he spotted Jon’s insignia on the floor, marking his resting chamber.

“You insolent child!” Gerard’s voice loudly boomed, causing Stiles to back further into the unknown room as he turned to face the enraged Elder.

“You hound me day and night about my loyalties to this Coven, but when I try to do the right thing—”

“That _boy_ is not human. He is a Lycan. And just like every other one of those animals, will be put to death!” Gerard replied, Death Dealers marching into the room.

“He’s still human until he turns. He is not involved in this war,” Stiles replied, eyes flickering towards the exits, in hopes that whatever Lydia had planned would somehow bar Gerard from getting his claws into him.

“You think that excuses him?” Gerard asked in amazement. “Every single one of them is the same—mangy animals in need of extermination. If you can’t see that, then perhaps you need to join them.”

“Enough!” A voice boomed loudly through the chamber, causing Stiles to freeze with the authority it carried.

Stiles watched the Death Dealers all stand to attention before kneeling as they bowed their heads in respect. He noted how Gerard’s eyes widened—shock and fear crossing his features for a few split seconds before pure anger returned. He slowly turned, hesitant to see the person behind him. He knew who it was the minute he heard his voice.

Stiles was surprised when he turned around to be face to face with Jon. He immediately bowed his head in respect before moving to take a knee. He knew Jon’s eyes followed him until he was kneeling, watching him carefully stare a hole into the floor.

“Leave us,” Jon commanded the Death Dealers. His eyes flickered over to Gerard. “That includes you.”

“That boy—”

“Will be dealt with,” Jon snapped. “Now leave us,” he calmly added. He waited for everyone to exit and the doors to shut, before turning his attention to Stiles.

“My lord,” Stiles started, keeping his eyes cast downward. “I apologize, I never meant—”

Jon held up a hand to silence him. “There’s no need to apologize.”

“Lydia told me to meet her here,” Stiles explained.

“Ah, yes,” Jon replied, a faint smile shadowing over his lips. “She has taken things into her own hands with the Awakening. Even without the necessary skills to perform the ceremony, she still managed. Although, she has seemed to have vanished from sight completely now that her work is done.”

Stiles frowned, hoping that wherever she managed to disappear to, Lydia was safe from both Vampire and Lycan. He waited for Jon to exact some kind of punishment on him, knowing that the list of crimes committed grew longer by the minute.

“I’m sure that wherever she is, she is safe,” Jon stated in reassurance when he saw Stiles’ frown.

Stiles nodded as he remained silent, unsure just how much safer he was with Jon than with Gerard.

“Lydia told me you’ve been troubled, as of late,” Jon started as he slowly began to pace. “Haunted by ‘flashes of another life,’ she called them.”

Stiles remembered the most current flashes plaguing his mind. It was unmistakable that the other man in these visions was the Lycan he shot the other night—Derek Hale, as Lydia claimed. The latest vision, however, felt closer to him, as if it was from this lifetime.

“Tell me what the earliest memory you have is,” Jon carefully watched Stiles as he spoke, moving to sit in the seat that used to serve as his throne among the council members centuries ago.

~*~

_His hands clawed at the dirt as he struggled to escape his entrapment. Dirt caked under his nails as he crawled away from the tree. He was coughing, his throat raw from not being used for such a long time. He pushed himself to stand, his legs wobbly as they tried to remember what standing felt like. He turned his head to observe his surroundings. He took in the sight of the creek before his eyes landed on the oak tree._

_“Derek …” he breathed, trying to find some trace of the Lycan. “Derek,” he tried louder. He winced as he struggled with moving forward. “Derek!” He continued to call his name like a mantra. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but somehow, he was alive. His skin was no longer blistering or charred. He was no longer ash._

_“Derek!” He loudly yelled._

_He froze when he heard riders closing in on him._

_“This is … impossible,” a familiar voice sent a chill down his spine._

_He turned around to stare up in horror at the person who had found him. He did the only thing he thought of—he ran._

_He ran as fast as his feet could carry him, still stumbling like a newborn foal as he tried to outrun the sound of the Elder yelling his name._

_“Stiles!” Gerard’s voice echoed after him._

~*~

“I remember running, my lord,” Stiles admitted, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground.

“From whom?” Jon asked as he shifted his weight in the seat. Even after centuries of skipping through time, his body always felt heavy and out of place whenever he was awoken from his slumber.

“Gerard, my lord,” Stiles honestly answered. “I was trying to escape him. And then I only remember being a Vampire—being brought here with no name, no memory of who I am. But the other night, I shot a Lycan who … who sparked a rush of images. He was familiar to me.”

“And this man—this Lycan you saw,” Jon began, placing the story together. “You believe he is a part of your past?”

Stiles nodded, not willing to admit that the man connected to his past was none other than Derek Hale.

“This is why you helped Allison smuggle a Lycan from our grounds?” Jon’s voice was stern as he spoke.

“He’s a human,” Stiles tried to explain.

“He’s bitten—claimed by the Lycans. Do you honestly think you can spare him?” Jon inquired out of interest.

“With all respect, my king, but perhaps this war has raged on for too long,” Stiles stated, finally gaining the courage to look up at Jon. He held the Elder’s gaze before continuing. “Many Death Dealers do not remember what it is they are fighting for—other Vampires do not bother to fight. If the Lycans are so few in number, why must we continue in our attempts to crush them?”

A flash of emotion crossed Jon’s features—something akin to fondness—before it quickly vanished. “You speak as a diplomat,” he stated. “Almost like—” he frowned, cutting off his own words.

“Almost like … your son?” Stiles dared to ask. He knew he was treading a thin line between Jon’s mercy and his pained grief.

“Yes,” Jon surprisingly answered with ease. “I won’t deny it, you look, sound, and act a great deal like my son.”

Stiles bit his lip as he waited for the inevitable ‘but’ to happen.

“My son, too, had a soft spot for the Lycans. One in particular caught his affections. But my son was murdered centuries ago for those affections, as you well know,” Jon replied.

“I don’t think the man blamed is the one who did it,” Stiles finally confessed.

Jon paused, turning his body back to face Stiles. “I’m not sure what you heard about my son’s death, but—”

“Derek Hale loved your son,” Stiles blurted out, knowing he should keep silent. “He loved him, and never would have hurt him.”

“And you know this how?” Jon asked, his voice low and dangerous. “If you know that my child was not murdered by the animal he chose to love, share your knowledge now.”

Stiles bit his bottom lip, knowing he shouldn’t say anything. “I _am_ haunted by flashes of another life,” he started. “They’re not from my past, but from another life completely. They’ve only grown worse over the past few decades. They started out as blurred images, but I can always hear the voices as clear as my own. Recently, the images have grown clearer—I’ve seen images of … myself with who I believe to be Derek Hale.”

Jon remained silent, watching Stiles for a sign that he was lying. He wasn’t sure how to respond to such a confession. “Are you claiming to be my son?” He finally asked, voice stern and full of warning for Stiles to tread carefully.

“I don’t know what I am,” Stiles weakly replied. “I know that in these flashes the man—Derek—called me Stiles, and my prince. Beyond that, I do not know.”

“Incoherent thoughts and voices,” Jon noted.

“Search my memories if you must,” Stiles nearly begged. “Everything you need to know is locked in my blood. If anyone can find my memories, it would be an Elder, such as yourself.” He carefully watched Jon’s features, thankful he seemed to be considering his plea. “Please,” he weakly pleaded. “If you won’t look, at least allow me to get the proof you need. There is a man—the Lycan I shot the other night—who looks exactly like Derek. Let me find him—let me figure out the truth.”

“I will leave it up to Gerard to find proof of Derek’s supposal resurfacing,” Jon finally replied.

“Gerard is the one that—”

“He is an Elder!” Jon snapped, the force of his voice causing Stiles to recoil. “I know it has been difficult for you, but you cannot expect an Elder to be so easily placed under suspicion.”

“Please,” Stiles looked up at Jon, tears burning his eyes for reasons unknown to him. “I know there is something being hidden, and I know in my heart that my memories have something to do with it.”

Jon turned his head away from Stiles, before solemnly replying, “I’m sorry, Stiles.”

~*~

Allison sighed, moving away from the window. She caught Scott staring at her, arching her eyebrow in question. She couldn’t help the small smile crossing her lips when he blushed, darting his head away.

“They won’t … hurt Stiles, will they?” Scott asked.

“I don’t know,” Allison honestly replied. “If this runs as deep as Stiles believes it does, then there is no telling who we can trust.”

“Lydia seemed nice,” Scott offered, unable to pass a judgment on anyone he met over the past night.

“She is,” Allison stated. “She was the first friend I found among the Vampires.”

“Lydia is quite a character,” an unknown voice announced, startling both Allison and Scott.

Allison jumped into action, drawing her weapon immediately, prepared to shoot the intruder. She moved to stand next to Scott, her eyes scanning the room.

“Put that away,” the voice stated. “Those are wolfsbane bullets—they’ll only sting me.” A figure finally emerged from the shadows by the door. It was an older man, in his thirties. He smiled at Allison, the corners of his lips curling up as he ducked his head in amusement. “I’d rather not get shot, if it’s all the same to you.”

“What do you want?” Allison demanded, cocking the hammer back on her gun as she prepared to open fire.

The man placed his hands up in a placated manner. “My family back,” he honestly answered. “I’ve told my nephew more than once that vengeance isn’t worth its sacrifice, wouldn’t you say?”

“Who are you?” Allison quickly asked.

The man smiled. “I’ve been called quite a few names over the centuries. However, I have to admit, I’m more interested in what both Vampires and Lycans want with the boy,” he admitted as he gestured towards Scott.

Scott winced as a pain stabbed through his skull, a flashback hitting him. He saw the man, smiling as he talked. More images of the man riding on horseback, arguing with two older men as Scott stared up at them in fear. He could hear Derek’s voice addressing the man— _Uncle Peter_.

“Uncle Peter,” Scott whispered loud enough that it caught Peter’s attention. “Peter Hale.”

“Ah, so Derek did bite you,” Peter stated in understanding.

“What’s happening to Scott?” Allison asked.

“What happens to all that have been bitten by older and stronger immortals,” Peter explained. “He’s seeing parts of Derek’s past—muddied because my dear nephew doesn’t really know how to control the transference of memories.”

“I’ve never heard that,” Allison replied. “Seeing memories through blood, but never the other way around. My grandfather turned me, and I never—”

“Gerard is an expert liar,” Peter cut Allison off. “You think he would allow any of his secrets to tumble out and be known by anyone he didn’t want knowing?”

“Then what _are_ you doing here, Peter?” Allison asked.

“You mentioned Stiles,” Peter finally answered one of Allison’s questions with a straight answer. “And I have to say, that sounds impossible, considering I saw his burnt corpse before my nephew buried him.”

“Derek buried him?” Scott asked in surprise.

Peter arched an eyebrow, casually folding his arms across his chest. “I’ll play along: why wouldn’t Derek bury his mate?”

“Mate?” Allison asked in disbelief. “The prince wasn’t—” She cut herself off.

“And who told you that?” Peter asked. “Was grandpa telling stories again?”

“What do you know?” Allison challenged. “If you are Peter Hale, you’re the Elder who abandoned the Coven for your own interests.”

“I may have left, but I never manipulated the Coven into serving my will,” Peter replied.

Allison’s phone tinged loudly, causing her to retrieve it from her pocket before handing it to Scott. She refused to take her eyes—or gun—off of Peter.

“It’s from Stiles,” Scott explained as he opened the text message. “He says that Lydia’s gone and Jon’s awake. He says that he needs proof that Derek’s alive.” He frowned before mumbling, “That’s all he said.”

Peter turned his attention to Scott. “Jon’s awake?” He asked in surprise.

“You’re coming with me,” Allison stated, not giving Peter an answer to his question as she finally lowered her weapon.

“Am I?” Peter softly asked in interest.

“What about me?” Scott questioned Allison, ignoring Peter.

“It’s not safe for you to come back to the Coven,” Allison explained. She drew her spare weapon from her holster, checking the clip before handing it to Scott. “Hold onto my phone and this,” she started once Scott took the gun from her. “One shot isn’t enough to kill you, but it will suppress the change if it starts. I’ll call you once I’ve figured all this out.”

Peter silently observed the two, keeping his comments to himself for once.

“Wait,” Scott called after her as he grabbed her wrist. “I don’t think you should go,” he quietly added when Allison turned to look at him. “I don’t trust him.”

“I’m wounded,” Peter mockingly commented, ignoring the way Allison turned to glare at him.

“I’ll be fine,” Allison replied. “My grandfather won’t harm me.”

Peter bit back his disbelief at the words. If there was one thing anyone not under Gerard’s manipulations knew, it was that Gerard was willing to sacrifice anything and anyone in pursuit of his own interests.

“It’s just …” Scott hesitated, unsure how to admit that he had a bad feeling about the whole situation.

“If it was Derek that bit you, you’re receiving his own feelings and assumptions about others,” Allison reasoned. “It would make sense that you would feel uneasy about my grandfather.”

“There has to be a reason you protected me from him,” Scott countered. “I don’t think this is Derek’s thoughts influencing me.” He finally let go of Allison’s wrist, moving to sit back down in the chair. “Just something to think about.”

Allison hesitated before nodding. She turned her attentions towards Peter before motioning him to start walking.

Peter obliged her, moving towards the stairwell first. He waited until they were a few flights down before speaking. “The boy has a point,” he broke the silence between them.

“And I’m not asking for yours,” Allison snapped.

“How well do you know your grandfather?” Peter questioned as he ignored Allison’s annoyance with him.

“I know him better than I know you,” Allison replied.

“Clearly not,” Peter sighed. “If you did, you never would have let your friend walk back into his clutches.”

“Stiles can handle himself,” Allison stated, hiding her concern for him as best she could.

“That’s what I thought many centuries ago,” Peter replied. “And then Gerard burned him alive.”

Allison halted her steps.

Peter paused when he noticed she stopped. He turned his attention back to her, taking in her features. “Believe me, don’t believe me, it makes no difference to me.”

“I don’t trust you,” Allison replied.

“You don’t have to trust me in order to believe me,” Peter called back to her.

As much as Allison tried to fight it, the part of her that has witnessed the extent of Gerard’s mercy couldn’t help but believe Peter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 contains more flashbacks, and a lot more Derek. It's also probably going to be longer than the last two chapters were. Either way, I hope you enjoy~
> 
> Also, Allison may seem like she is being stubborn, but to have people she doesn't know telling her that a family member (and Elder) lied to her is very hard to trust. Whereas Stiles is giving into his visions, and trusting them more.


	4. Deal With The Devil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title: Get it? "Deal with the Devil" could mean making a deal or having to deal with. (Ignore me, I'm sleep deprived, because I wanted to give you your chapter).
> 
> So much happens in this chapter! I hope you enjoy it~
> 
> The large italicized scenes/segments are memories/flashbacks that Derek is having.

“So, why come to us now?” Derek questioned as he crossed his arms over his chest, observing Lydia as she slowing took in her surroundings.

“Because I know you’re alive,” Lydia replied. “The entire Coven has been convinced you’ve been dead for centuries.”

Derek narrowed his eyes as he evaluated her. “And how did you stumble upon us?”

Lydia released a small sigh. “Hiding in an abandoned subway is not that well hidden, Derek. Besides, I have my ways of finding people.”

Derek closed his eyes, releasing a deep breath before mumbling, “Jackson.” He knew his Beta heard him when there was a slight shifting in bodyweight.

“Do you want to hear what I have to say or not?” Lydia replied, not willing to tell him her secret contact.

“And what do you have to say?” Derek tiredly questioned. “That you have McCall in your custody? That Gerard plans to kill him? None of this is news.”

“Jon is awake,” Lydia plainly stated. She didn’t bother to hide her smile when she noticed several of the Betas stir at the mention of the Elders name.

“He’s not due to awaken for—”

“Another few months,” Lydia stated. “I woke him up.”

Derek finally stood, descending the few steps to be on equal ground as Lydia. “That’s a crime, according to the Coven’s laws. Which puts you at great risk.”

“That it does,” Lydia replied in an unimpressed tone.

“And why would you do that?” Derek questioned, unwilling to believe Lydia would do it for any other reason than her own.

“Before I answer that, I have a few questions of my own,” Lydia replied.

Derek paused in his steps, listening to the way a handful of his Betas began to laugh. “You’re not in a position to be asking questions, Lydia,” he finally replied.

“As you were in no position to love another above your rank, yet here we are,” Lydia defiantly bit back.

Derek moved to stand in front of her, his eyes flashing crimson in response to her icy blue ones challenging him to tell her otherwise. “Then ask your questions.”

“Did you love Stiles?” Lydia asked, aware of the rigidness in Derek’s shoulders at the mention of his name.

“I think you know that answer better than anyone else here,” Derek growled in response.

“I know you enjoyed his company,” Lydia countered. “Was it just his body?” She heard the low growl Derek emitted from his chest, noticing the way the Betas began to recoiling from their clearly upset Alpha. She stood firm, knowing she needed to spark something in him—enough to make him act, at least. “Tell me who you really are,” she continued. “Are you the man who fell in love with someone high above his station, or are you the monster who took his bodily pleasures in the prince before disposing of him?”

Derek moved faster than Lydia thought he would, instantly within her space as his hand wrapped around her throat. It was a threatening pose, Derek clearly being able to rip Lydia’s throat out. But Derek’s grip was light, almost nonexistent, as if he was holding her at bay as much as he was himself.

“Careful Lydia,” Derek quietly warned, his claws just grazing against her skin. “Or I will show you how capable I am of being the _monster_ Gerard always feared I was.”

“You’re angry,” Lydia noted. “Good. I need you to be angry.”

Derek scoffed, slipping his hand from Lydia’s throat. “And I need you to leave. Your plea for sanctuary has been revoked.”

“I needed to know how far you were willing to go.”

Derek ignored her, prepared to leave her for his Betas to handle as he continued to walk away.

“I needed to know you were willing to fight for him,” Lydia added.

Derek halted, turning to look back at her.

“I needed to know that you weren’t the one that brought him back,” Lydia explained.

“Brought who back?” Derek questioned.

“He’s alive, Derek,” Lydia answered. “I don’t know how, neither does he. But he said something to me several hours ago that made me think: what if Derek didn’t know he was alive? What if someone was trying to use him as a pawn to end the war in their favor?”

“What the hell are you saying?” Derek challenged as he started moving back towards her.

“I’m saying that Prince Stiles, son of King Jon of the Stilinski clan did not remain dead after Gerard burned him,” Lydia finally stated.

“Stiles _is_ dead,” Derek snapped back. “I wrapped his _burnt corpse_ in a Death Dealer’s cloak. I _carried_ him away from the Coven’s walls. I _buried_ him by _our_ oak tree,” he practically roared the words as he advanced on Lydia, his wolf taking over in anger at being mocked. “Don’t you dare try to belittle what he suffered at the hands of your demented Elder!”

“He is alive, whether you want to believe it or not,” Lydia defiantly stated, not fearing Derek’s anger, having seen much worse from Gerard and the council members of old.

“Did Gerard send you here to taunt me one last time?” Derek snapped.

“Gerard believes you to be dead,” Lydia replied. “I am telling you this because Stiles is in danger, and you are the only one who can do anything about it. I can’t convince Jon that he is his son, but you would know if he was. You just need to meet him.”

Derek scoffed. “So what, I mount a heroic rescue, like last time, only this time instead of being met by Stiles, I’m met by some imposter who looks like him?”

“You’re a wolf, Derek,” Lydia replied in earnest. “You must have caught his scent more than once. He shot you the other night for crying out loud! And he said that he saw the pendant.”

Derek’s anger wavered at the mention of the pendant.

“You’re still wearing it, aren’t you?” Lydia questioned. “I thought he just looked like him. But then he started having these night terrors—of being burned; of a man screaming his name. Surely you remember that,” she weakly added. “I can’t wipe your screams from my memory no matter how hard I try.”

“You expect me to just accept that he’s magically alive?” Derek questioned, turning his back towards Lydia.

“I expect you trust me,” Lydia replied.

“Stiles is dead,” Derek restated.

“And yet there is a Vampire who looks exactly like him—who is haunted by memories of you and that pendant.”

Derek looked down, pulling the pendant from its hiding place beneath his shirt, letting it hang freely from his neck. “Even if I did trust you, I don’t believe you.”

“Then go back to the oak tree and see for yourself if what I say is true.”

“You want me dig him up?” Derek growled.

“There’s nothing to dig up,” Lydia replied. “He clawed his way out, I’m sure of it. Gerard found him—he must have kept his memories from him—keeping him as a back up plan.”

“I never should have let Jackson let you in,” Derek grumbled under his breath.

“Why did you?” Lydia challenged. “Why bother letting me in to see you, if you are so certain I have nothing to offer you?”

“Because unlike Gerard, I don’t try to keep people from loving who they want to,” Derek weakly replied, storming away from the room. He knew his Betas wouldn’t follow after him, respecting his need to be alone, and even Lydia could understand his need for solitude.

~*~

_“Where’s my pendant?” Stiles asked, quickly picking up his shirt from the ground as he spun around to inspect the forest floor._

_“It’s not there?” Derek questioned as he pulled his trousers the rest of the way up. He moved to stand near Stiles, scanning the ground._

_“No, I normally don’t take it off, but—” Stiles quickly turned to look at the creek, his eyes widening. “Oh, God,” he gasped, panic rising in his chest. “What—what if it fell off when we were swimming?”_

_Derek turned to look at the creek. He immediately turned his attention back to Stiles when he saw him suddenly fall to the ground, his knees giving way beneath him._

_“It was my mother’s,” Stiles started, his breathing coming in hurried gasps. “It’s the only thing I have left—Derek—”_

_“Stiles,” Derek calmly called his name, kneeling in front of him. “I need you to slow your breathing.”_

_“But I—”_

_“Stiles, listen to me,” Derek moved to press his hand against Stiles’ chest, his other hand moving to firmly cup Stiles’ cheek. “You need to calm your breathing. You’re having a panic attack.”_

_It took a while before Derek was able to successfully calm Stiles’ breathing, not daring to leave his side for a second. He evened out the unruliness of Stiles’ hair, trying to soothe the shivers running through his body._

_“Derek, what am I going to do?” Stiles weakly questioned._

_Derek looked up, catching sight of the sun preparing to rise. “You have to head back to the Coven,” he quickly stating, pulling Stiles to his feet. “You should have just enough time to get back.”_

_“But—”_

_“Don’t argue with me,” Derek replied. “Head back to the Coven.”_

_Stiles looked from Derek to the creek once more. He hesitated before nodding, knowing Derek was right. He forced himself to part, heading for the Coven’s walls as quickly as possible._

_Derek turned his attention back towards the creek, eyes scanning the water as he tried to determine where to start._

_It had been several days since the night Stiles lost his pendant. Neither Derek nor Stiles were able to steal a moment together, remaining silent as they past one another in the hallway, aware of the eyes carefully watching them. It wasn’t until Derek asked for an audience with the King that he was allowed to share the same room as Stiles._

_“Derek,” Jon stated in surprised as he watched Derek bow his head in respect before kneeling._

_“Your majesty,” Derek started before reaching into his pocket. He was surprised when his arm was snatched, immediately yanking his hand from his pocket. He kept his hand clutched shut when he realized it was none other than Gerard._

_“Gerard,” Jon sighed. “The boy isn’t going to attack us.”_

_“He has teeth to do that,” Gerard snapped as he eyed Derek._

_Derek remained motionless, hand still clutched frozen._

_“If he doesn’t intend to harm us, then why does he keep it hidden?” Gerard commented._

_“Perhaps he doesn’t want you to steal it,” Peter drawled in an equally condescending way from his spot next to Jon._

_“Leave the boy alone,” Jon stated as he stood up, Stiles immediately following his actions. “Derek, did you come to show me what you have in your hand?”_

_Derek quickly nodded, remaining silent._

_Jon motioned for Gerard to unhand him. He waited, watching as Gerard unwillingly released Derek’s arm from his grasp._

_Derek dared to look up at Jon as he approached, catching sight of Stiles. “Your majesty,” he began, forcing his eyes onto the ground once more. “I found this in the hallway the other night,” he explained as he opened his hand to reveal Stiles’ pendant._

_Stiles mouth opened in surprise when he saw the pendant, barely able to hold himself back from rushing forward and sweeping Derek up in an embrace. He moved to hold onto his father’s arm to stop himself from reaching for Derek. “I thought I lost it,” he enthusiastically confessed._

_“If you knew it was Stiles’, why not return it right away?” Gerard questioned._

_“The clasp on the chain was broken,” Derek replied. “I replaced the old clasp with a stronger one. It will last the prince longer than its predecessor.”_

_Peter smiled when he saw displeasure twist across Gerard’s face. “The boy wished to fix the prince’s cherished necklace. Not a crime, Gerard, just a display of affection.”_

_Derek ducked his head even further, attempting to hide all traces of the blush that graced his features._

_“Thank you, Derek,” Jon stated, ignoring the other two Elders as he took the pendant from Derek’s hand. “It means a great deal to Stiles and I both.”_

_Derek silently nodded his head before respectfully bowing once more, slipping out of the room entirely. He hurried back to his own room, knowing Gerard would likely be after him if he caught him in the hallway. He instantly knew the light knock on his door a few hours into the daytime was from none other than Stiles._

_Stiles easily slipped into the room once Derek bid him enter, closing the door behind him. He idly stood there, uncertain if he should move forward or address why he was there to begin with. He finally settled for speaking about the incident. “How long did it take you?” he asked, knowing Derek must have stayed after he forced him to leave._

_Derek hesitated, wondering if he should tell Stiles the truth. “Almost the entire day,” he sheepishly replied. “It was easier to look once the sun rose,” he quickly added when he saw the frown cross Stiles’ face._

_“Derek, you didn’t have to do that,” Stiles stated as he looked down at the pendant, knowing that Derek must have gotten in trouble for disappearing for so long._

_“I did,” Derek confessed. “It’s important to you.”_

_Stiles looked up at Derek, worrying his bottom lip before admitting, “You’re more important to me.”_

_Derek allowed Stiles to stay in his room a little while longer, both of them relaxing into the bed’s comfort. It become more difficult of a task for them, the older they became the longer their limbs were. Stiles somehow perfected their ability to fit together over the size of the bed as he curled into Derek, practically using him as his own bed to rest on._

_Stiles continued to fight off sleep the more his head started to nod against Derek’s chest, knowing he shouldn’t fall unaware in a place they could easily be discovered. It was Derek’s comforting hand rhythmically rubbing his back that began lulling him to sleep._

_“I wish I could give this to you,” Stiles sleepily admitted as he turned the pendant in his fingers. “A token to have when I cannot be with you.”_

_Derek looked down at the pendant before lightly shaking his head. He reached a hand up to caress Stiles’ face, his fingertips running along the smooth contours of his cheek as he turned Stiles’ gaze up towards him. “I don’t need a token when I have you.”_

_Stiles smiled at Derek, pushing into his warmth as he leaned up to kiss him._

~*~

Derek twisted the pendant between his fingers, Lydia’s words still gnawing at his brain as it begged him to go searching for the truth. If there was a shred of possibility that Stiles was alive, he would risk whatever trap Gerard had waiting. He quietly looked up as Boyd silently moved into the room, his steps calculated and cautious as he approached his Alpha.

“Not you too,” Derek sighed as Boyd remained silent as he sat beside him.

“I didn’t say anything,” Boyd innocently replied.

“You didn’t have to,” Derek replied.

“There’s no harm in checking,” Boyd explained. “Say you go to the oak tree, and you find the ground disturbed there. Wouldn’t you rather know that you didn’t have another chance to be with him again instead of accidentally squandering it because you were too proud to know for certain?”

“You saw me bury him,” Derek replied.

“I did,” Boyd replied. He paused his words before stating, “Lydia wasn’t lying when she said that she could still hear your screams.”

“She’s an expert at lying,” Derek remarked. “She lied for more than a century for Stiles and I.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Boyd admitted. “I meant that _I know_ she can still hear your screams from that day, because I can still hear them too.” He turned to look at Derek.

Derek kept his eyes on the pendant, fingertips gently caressing the metal. “She’s asking me to dig him up. I can’t—” He bit his lip as it began to tremble. “Burying him was the hardest thing I ever had to do. But digging him up? I don’t … I don’t know if I can.”

“I’ll go,” Boyd offered. “I know where his grave is.”

Derek turned his gaze to look at Boyd. He gave him a weak smile before shaking his head. “No. If anyone is going to dig him up, it’s me.” He quickly ran a hand through his hair. “If Gerard has him, he’ll kill him. Even if he doesn’t remember me.”

“Lydia has a plan,” Boyd reassured Derek. “She wouldn’t have awoken Jon and come found you without some sort of plan.” He paused, evaluating Derek’s features. “Checking Stiles’ grave doesn’t mean you believe her. It just means you trust her enough to check her assumptions.”

“How can I trust her when she let this … lookalike live in ignorance of everything Gerard has done?”

“Then trust Isaac,” Boyd replied. “Trust that your Beta saw someone who looked enough like Stiles that he came to you.”

Derek finally nodded, knowing that Boyd was offering him a way out of admitting his obvious want to investigate Lydia’s claims.

“I want Deaton with me, he’ll be able to explain whatever happened to create this lookalike,” Derek stated as he stood. “We have about six hours before sunrise, which means Lydia can come with us.”

“What about the others?” Boyd asked as he also stood.

“If I don’t come back, lead them,” Derek offered Boyd a faint smile before exiting the room.

~*~

“The child is delusional,” Gerard sighed.

Stiles kept his distance from Gerard, keeping closer to Jon than anyone else.

“His claims hold weight, Gerard,” Jon replied.

“Where is his proof?” Gerard questioned. “He stands here, spouting claims and assumptions about me at the root of some ridiculous scheme.”

“And _here’s_ his proof!” Allison’s voice echoed throughout the council room as she stood in the open doorway.

“Allison,” Gerard stated in surprise.

“Forgive my intrusion, my lord,” Allison stated as she looked at Jon, ignoring her grandfather. “But I stumbled across someone you may wish to speak to before dealing out judgment.” She turned to look at a person just out of view.

“Well, that’s one hell of an entrance,” Peter smiled at Allison as he walked into the council room, looking from Jon to Gerard. “I’m home.”

“Peter?” Jon questioned in amazement.

“Jon,” Peter answered as he descended the steps.

“What are you doing here?” Gerard snapped.

“I do believe I sired all Vampires,” Peter replied in mock misunderstanding. “Would that not mean that I’m allowed to be at this meeting?”

“You abandoned us the night the prince was murdered.”

“You wish to talk about the night Prince Stiles died?” Peter snapped back. “By all means, let’s _talk_ about that night and his _execution_.”

Their voices began to drain out as nothing but white noise as a sharp pain hammered into Stiles’ brain. He winced, grabbing his forehead in an attempt to press the necessary pressure points in order to counter the pain.

_“Because you’re going to get him killed. Or get yourself killed … Neither of us have the fate we want. Yet you are the fool who keeps wandering around aimlessly as he tries to free his lover from his fate … How about we start with getting Derek out of Gerard’s reach?”_

Stiles looked up at Peter, furrowing his eyebrows as he tried to place the conversation. All he knew from it was that Peter knew about the affair between the prince and Derek—that he wanted to help them escape Gerard’s trap.

“Enough,” Jon sighed in aggravation. “Nothing has changed between you two,” he huffed.

“I’m self-obsessed, and he’s still a power hungry prick,” Peter commented.

“Thank you, Peter,” Jon dryly replied.

Stiles began to stagger, his entire body swaying as he struggled to keep his mind from spinning. The flashes were coming in quicker succession, overwhelming him completely. He stumbled to the side, reaching a hand out to steady himself against one of the many columns.

“Stiles,” Allison called his name in concern as she moved to help stable him.

Stiles gripped his head, placing his own hold on Allison instead of the column.

“I just …” Stiles’ voice trailed off as he leaned into Allison more.

“Perhaps you should rest, young one,” Peter gently commented as he watched Stiles blink his eyes as if he was a newborn colt taking in the sights of life for the first time.

“I’m okay,” Stiles lied as he straightened up some.

“Stiles,” Jon sternly stated his name. “You have had a trying series of nights.” He turned his attention towards Allison. “Take him to his room to rest.”

Allison nodded as she assisted Stiles towards the doors. Stiles looked back at the three Elders, his eyes resting on Peter as he decided that the man was hiding more than he was willing to reveal. He reluctantly allowed Allison to lead him away.

“I have to say,” Peter started, eyes lingering on the doors until they shut completely. “That boy looks a great deal like the prince. You’ve even taken to naming him Stiles.”

“That’s not what we are here to discuss, Peter,” Gerard snapped.

“Isn’t it?” Peter asked as he looked at Gerard. “Haven’t we gathered to talk about the war coming to an end? The war that was ignited because of Stiles’ death.”

“You’re the proof meant to absolve Stiles of his crimes against the Coven,” Jon explained as he moved to sit in his chair—he was going to need all his strength to deal with both Peter and Gerard in the same room.

“Stiles’ crimes?” Peter asked, sounding as if he never heard the idea.

“Crimes he has roped my granddaughter into committing with him,” Gerard replied. “He fled the safety of the Coven’s walls, with a Lycan. And now he has hidden him from view.”

“And why would he do something like that?” Peter questioned.

“He claims that his memories are returning to him—more importantly memories that sound as if they are from … another life. He also claims that Derek Hale is alive,” Jon stated.

Peter noticed the way Gerard stiffened before turning to look at Jon.

“That’s impossible,” Gerard stated, more out of hope than disbelief.

“For you, I would hope it was,” Peter replied. “What did he promise you? Tearing you limb from limb, I think? Oh, but not before he tore everything you love from you.”

“He’s your bastard of a nephew,” Gerard began his insult through clenched teeth. “And he has killed countless Vampires in your absence. Convenient that you appear now, just as rumors of Derek’s return surface.”

“Convenient?” Peter arched his eyebrow. “No, no. _Convenient_ would be Prince Stiles’ murder at the hands of Derek Hale, and then the swift but justifiable execution of the traitorous Lycan while Stiles’ father slumbers.”

Jon turned his attention to Peter, carefully watching him.

“But it didn’t quite happen that way, did it?” Peter knowingly taunted Gerard with his knowledge.

“He’s been gone for centuries, and he chooses now to appear. Why?” Gerard demanded, a weak attempt to turn the tables back towards Peter.

Jon remained silent, evaluating both Elders’ words. “Why did you vanish, Peter?”

“My reasons are my own,” Peter defiantly answered. “But I stayed away because of Gerard’s bloodlust. I’ve come back now because I refuse to let happen once before happen again.”

“What are you talking about?” Jon questioned.

“You should see the way Allison looks at the Lycan,” Peter explained. “It’s the same way Stiles once looked at Derek, before he fell in love with him.”

“Lies,” Gerard hissed.

“She may be your granddaughter, but she is not a monster like you,” Peter snapped as he looked at Gerard. “Besides,” he turned his attention to Jon as he spoke. “The Lycans are after the McCall boy because his blood is different than most human’s. It reacts to both the Vampire and Lycan bloodlines in a way that neutralizes it.”

“Neutralizes it?” Jon questioned.

“It attacks the immortality fused within us as if it’s an infection. It reverses it all—it makes us mortal,” Peter stated.

“That’s impossible. You’re saying McCall is the cure for both Vampires and Lycans?” Gerard asked in disbelief.

“If there is a bloodline that can survive both infections, then it’s not far fetched that there is a bloodline that can cancel them out,” Peter replied.

“No one can survive both bites,” Gerard stated in irritation.

“Descendants of the Hale bloodline can,” Peter stated. “There is a possibility that a Hale member’s blood could easily change and adapt both diseases.”

“Abominations,” Gerard cursed.

“You’re saying your nephew planned on becoming a hybrid?” Jon asked in disbelief, ignoring Gerard’s comment.

“No,” Peter immediately replied. “I’m saying that Gerard feared my nephew enough that he wanted him dead.”

“What are you saying, Peter?” Jon questioned, unmoving from his seat.

Peter looked up at Jon. He released a sad, tired laugh as he shook his head. “You believed him, didn’t you?” He looked incredulously at Jon. “He told you his lie and you accepted it.”

Jon’s eyes flickered to Gerard before returning to Peter.

“This is absurd,” Gerard started.

“Derek loved Stiles,” Peter calmly stated as he continued to look at Jon. “He still does. You know better than any of us, how important your son was to Derek. He never would have hurt him.”

The alarm suddenly began to blare, catching the Elders off guard.

Peter turned to look at the doors, his attentions distracted as a handful of Death Dealers entered the room.

“What is it?” Jon questioned as he stood, moving forward.

“It’s Stiles,” one of the Death Dealers explained. “He’s escaped.”

“What about Allison?” Jon asked.

“He tricked her into leaving him alone so he could escape unnoticed,” the Death Dealer explained.

“I imagine this makes you happy, Gerard,” Peter huffed as he rolled his shoulders, highly agitated with the way the younger Vampires were behaving. He paused when Gerard didn’t respond, swiftly turning around to find the other man completely gone.

“It appears you weren’t lying,” Jon solemnly concluded.

“He’s going to try and eliminate anyone left who can prove him wrong,” Peter stated as he looked at Jon.

“Before this mad man hunt begins,” Jon started as he turned his body to look at Peter. “You are going to explain to me what the hell happened to my son.”

~*~

“This is it,” Derek stated as they approached the creek. He moved ahead of Deaton and Lydia, taking a few hurried steps before he was in front of the oak tree. It however was no longer a tree—a stump replaced the once tall and proud tree he and Stiles spent their years under.

“You’re positive this is the spot?” Deaton hesitantly questioned as he moved forward.

“I could never forget it,” Derek replied, moving to run his hands along the smooth top of the stomp. “This must have happened decades—centuries ago.”

“It must have decayed after—” Deaton paused, uncertain if he should continued.

Both Derek and Lydia looked to him, waiting for him to explain.

“This isn’t a normal tree,” Deaton started. “You used it as your meeting place because of its convenience, but I’m guessing the Coven used it as a marker for their borders.”

“It was just outside their protection,” Lydia stated. “It was too far into the woods for them to protect—they feared that the wolves would overtake it.”

“In all your years coming here with Stiles, did wolves ever approach it?” Deaton questioned Derek.

“No,” Derek answered, his eyebrows furrowing as he tried to remember seeing any animal around the tree. “Actually … no animal came near the tree.”

“As I thought,” Deaton sighed. “This tree is—was—what Druids refer to as a nemeton.”

“Nemeton? You mean, Derek buried Stiles’ body on sacred ground?” Lydia questioned in disbelief.

“Nemeta are usually representative of shrines or temples,” Deaton explained. “But sometimes nemeta can acquire strength and untold power from the Druids concentrating their own energy into it.

“This nemeton, in particular, is dead,” Deaton continued. “Something drained it of its power.”

“Something like …” Lydia started as she turned her attention towards Derek. She carefully watched him as he stared down at the ground by the tree.

“Raising someone from the dead,” Derek stated.

“It’s possible, if you buried Stiles’ body by the roots,” Deaton explained.

Lydia waited for Derek’s response, eyes darting to the ground just by Derek’s feet.

“I buried him about … five feet down,” Derek offered.

“That could be far enough,” Deaton replied.

Derek pulled at his leather coat, yanking it from his body as he offered it to Lydia. Lydia quickly took the coat from him, clutching the leather material to her chest as she stood back. Derek hazardously rolled his sleeves up to his elbows before taking the shovel from Deaton. He took a deep breath, pressing his nervousness down in favor of digging the shovel into the dirt.

Everything rode on these minutes as being the most crucial. Either Derek would find what he knew to be buried there, or in the absence of what he buried there, he would finally know that Stiles was somehow alive.

~*~

_Stiles released a small laugh as Derek’s beard tickled the skin just above his clavicle, the short hairs leaving a trail of beard burn in their wake. He ran his fingers through Derek’s hair as he leaned his head back further, giving Derek better access to his throat._

_“The sun will be up soon,” Stiles commented when he saw that the moon had begun to fade._

_Derek groaned, placing small kisses along Stiles’ neck. “I wish the sun would take the hint, and leave us be.”_

_Stiles smiled, placing a gentle kiss against Derek’s temple. “But then when would we sleep?”_

_Derek lifted his head to look at Stiles._

_“If we were together all the time, we would never be able to sleep,” Stiles explained. “We’d constantly be consuming one another’s time.”_

_“I’d gladly die of exhaustion if it meant seeing you every minute of every hour,” Derek replied._

_“You have my eternity, Derek,” Stiles answered, leaning in to kiss him. “And until we’re both free of this, I’ll keep fighting, knowing that one day, we won’t have to hold onto every moment like it’s our last.”_

~*~

“No,” Lydia bit out in disbelief.

Derek remained silent as he climbed from the hole he just dug, digging his fingernails into the dirt as he tried to grasp at something to steady him. After centuries of convincing himself that he didn’t hope anymore—that he was incapable of hoping anymore—he was wrong. Every time he drove the shovel into the ground, loosening the dirt the same way he did centuries ago, hopes slowly began to build inside his chest. Only this time, that hope was for what he wouldn’t find waiting at the bottom of the grave. But he was wrong.

“This isn’t possible,” Lydia stated. “It doesn’t make sense,” she barely breathed the words to life, staring at the burnt corpse barely wrapped in a decaying cloak at the bottom of the grave.

Deaton carefully eyed Derek, taking in his calm exterior as the pretense it was.

Derek turned his attention away from the grave and the others, looking up at the night’s sky. He stared at the moon, blinking back the tears that burned his eyes as he thought how foolish he was to actually think it was possible to have Stiles back in his life. He released a bitter laugh, biting down on his bottom lip.

“Derek,” Lydia started.

“Don’t,” Derek warned her. “Don’t, Lydia,” his voice was softer as he spoke the words, almost pleading Lydia to leave him in his misery.

“I’m sorry,” Lydia partially sobbed, closing the gap between them as she wrapped her arms around Derek’s waist. She pressed her forehead against his back, silencing her own tears—her guilt at forcing Derek to dig up Stiles’ grave—as she hid between his shoulder blades.

Derek silently placed his hands over Lydia’s, a small comfort to let her know that he wasn’t upset with her.

~*~

Stiles ran as fast as he could, determined to find answers to these visions. He knew that Gerard would somehow get away with his crimes, even with Peter there to counter his claims. His one hope for peace of mind was to find the Lycans—more importantly, to find the Lycan that looked like Derek Hale. He felt guilty for slipping out of the room when Allison had gone to retrieve him a drink—he knew she was going to be pissed at him for it, but would forgive him later once she knew why he did it.

Stiles cautiously looked around him as he came to the safe house where Allison said she left Scott. He waited until he was certain no one was watching him before he slipped into the building. He took the stairs quickly, halting when he heard voices in the room with Scott. He moved to stand by the closed door, listening to them speak.

“I don’t understand what this war is about,” Scott slightly complained.

“All you have to know is that we want to end it,” a familiar sounding voice snapped.

“Look, you need me, not the other way around, so stop being a jerk,” Scott snapped back.

“Jackson, leave him alone,” another voice stated. “Scott,” the voice calmly turned its attention towards Scott. “We need you to come with us so we can protect you from the Vampires.”

“But that’s it, Isaac,” Scott started. “Two Vampires brought me here to protect me from the others. Allison just left to bring this guy, Peter Hale back to defend Stiles against being blamed for some crimes.”

The silence grew before the first voice— _Jackson_ —decided to speak.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Jackson demanded.

“What?” Scott asked, daring Jackson to question him again.

“Peter Hale, as in Derek’s uncle?” Isaac questioned first.

“I asked if he was named that, and he said something about his nephew biting me,” Scott replied. “Wait, so Derek from last night _is_ Derek Hale?”

“Derek faked his death to throw Gerard off his trail,” Isaac explained.

The sound of someone cuffing someone else upside the head echoed in the room.

“Fuck off, Jackson!” Isaac loudly swore.

“You said something about Stiles,” Jackson ignored Isaac as he questioned Scott.

“Stiles is another Vampire,” Scott explained. “He … he shot Derek the other night.”

“I told Derek,” Isaac excitedly stated. “I knew he was still alive.”

Stiles furrowed his eyebrows, frowning as he listened to the Lycans discussing him with Scott.

“We need to get out of here and report back,” Jackson stated. “Derek’s going to want to know all of this.”

“You’re taking me to see Derek?” Scott asked.

“Do you want this war to end?” Jackson questioned.

“You promise you won’t hurt Allison or Stiles?” Scott questioned back.

“I promise, Scott, we’ll do what we can to not hurt them,” Isaac offered. “But the faster we get you out of here and into safety, the more likely that will happen.”

“Okay,” Scott reluctantly agreed.

Stiles moved as fast and quietly as he could, descending the stairs until he exited the building. He waited in a secluded part of the alleyway, keeping his eyes fixed on the door as he waited for the three of them to exit. He mentally high-fived himself when the three of them started to walk down the street, completely unaware of Stiles as he began to track after them.

Stiles was determined to follow after them, knowing that this was his chance to finally figure out who he was. His stomach churned and rolled at the thought of finally figuring it all out. He stressed as he thought about what he would do if he really didn’t have a past—if he really was just a blank slate. But he knew that whatever he was, Derek Hale would know. And nothing was going to stop him from talking to him.

~*~

“Damn it, Stiles,” Allison huffed as she shuffled through the books covering his desk. She was determined to find something that would lead her to find him. _He probably went back to Scott._ She sighed, figuring it was her best bet before hurriedly taking off down the hallway.

Allison was startled when a hand grabbed her arm, pulling her into one of the side rooms. She turned to force the person to unhand her, only to realize that it was none other than her grandfather.

“What are you doing?” Allison demanded, moving out of his reach.

“Don’t use that tone with me, Allison,” Gerard reprimanded her. “I am your grandfather—”

“You may be my grandfather, but that does not excuse you for all you’ve done,” Allison sternly stated.

“I see Peter has managed to turn you against me as well,” Gerard darkly replied.

“If what Peter says is a lie, then why have you whisked me away to speak in private?” Allison demanded.

“Peter is blinded by his love of his family, as he has always been,” Gerard started. “He has been on a constant hunt for his sister’s prison, desperate to free her and ultimately unleash her onto the world.”

“What does this have to do with anything?” Allison wearily questioned.

“Everything that happened that night, all those centuries ago, can be laid at Derek and Prince Stiles’ feet,” Gerard explained. “What I told was a lie. Stiles and Derek were sentenced to be executed because of their crimes.”

“What crimes?” Allison asked, refusing to believe it.

“Derek and Stiles slaughtered other Vampires in order to try and free both Derek and the rest of the Lycans,” Gerard replied. “They were brought before the council, had their crimes laid against them, and the council demanded they be punished for them.”

Allison turned her gaze from her grandfather, uncertain who she could believe.

“Stiles was killed first with the sunlight,” Gerard continued. “Derek was meant to be killed next, but he used his strength to escape, causing an uprising.”

“Why do you expect me to believe this?” Allison questioned. “You brought Stiles here for what purpose?”

“The Stiles you know now isn’t Prince Stiles,” Gerard explained. “I found him wandering through the woods. He was on the brink of death, so I turned him. I brought him back to Jon as a sentimental apology for having lost his son.”

“Lost?” Allison snapped. “He wasn’t lost, Gerard, he was executed, if what you say is true. Why bother with any of this? Why bother telling me?”

“Because Derek Hale is alive,” Gerard stated in a low voice. “The reason this war has dragged on for centuries longer than it should have is because your aunt failed to successfully kill him.”

“And what does this have to do with me?” Allison asked.

“Because you’re the only one Stiles trusts,” Gerard started. “But the boy has been brainwashed by ideas that he is somehow favored by that animal. If we do not protect him from that, it will be a repeat of what happened to Prince Stiles.”

“Everything you’ve ever said has been a lie,” Allison replied.

“Derek Hale is a monster, Allison,” Gerard stated. “And now Stiles has been tainted by that monster. You have to help him. Save your friend and obtain retribution for your mother.”

Allison’s eyes flared blue as she snapped her attention back to Gerard.

“Do what you were made to do, and kill that animal,” Gerard stated. “I am taking the Death Dealers who are loyal to me, and I am leaving here. Whether you follow me is your choice, but you are always welcomed with your family.”

“What are you going to do?” Allison hesitantly asked.

“We’re going to put an end to the war once and for all,” Gerard simply stated.

“And what about Scott?” Allison questioned.

“If he is immune, like Peter said, then the boy is free to live,” Gerard answered.

“And Stiles?” Allison demanded.

“Stiles is a victim, my dear girl,” Gerard gently replied. “We have to save him from his own inability to see just how dangerous Derek Hale is.”

Allison closed her eyes as she let her head fall. She wanted to help both Stiles and Scott, but part of her felt just how poisonous the words her grandfather spoke were. She felt trapped. Reluctantly she nodded, knowing that she was somehow making a deal with the devil, and she knew that he always came out the victor in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gerard is a slippery bastard, and he's going to get his (I promise).
> 
> As far as Stiles is concerned, he wants to know the truth, but at the same time he is scared to. He's lived his "whole life" knowing that he can't remember anything, and then all this stuff starts happening that is forcing him to remember things from someone else's life. Stiles is confused and a little scare, and I just want to wrap him up in a blanket and tell him it will be okay.
> 
> Allison is a little bit more complex. She's closed herself off for so long, but Stiles is one of her only friends and she doesn't want to risk losing him. She agrees to "help" Gerard because he is her family and has never meant her harm in the past, and because she wants to help Stiles. But she also wants to save Scott, because she has somehow grown seriously attached to him unlike anyone else.
> 
> Anyways, the next chapter is where everything gets REALLY CRAZY. Plots are unveiled. Pasts are revealed. Characters meet.


	5. Now and Forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your wonderful comments (both here and on tumblr). You are amazing at spurring on my creative process, and let's face it, this fic wouldn't be getting done if it wasn't for you guys, so thank you!
> 
> In other words, there's only one major chapter left and then the epilogue! Enjoy!

Scott’s vision was blurry as he started to regain consciousness. He blinked, trying to will himself into seeing clearer. He could make out shapes of people, unable to place them until he heard their voices.

“I thought he was immune,” Isaac’s voice questioned from across the room.

“This doesn’t make sense,” Derek stated in anger. “What will happen to him?”

“His body is struggling with the shift,” Deaton replied.

“Damn it,” Derek cursed, slamming his hand against the wall in frustration.

“What now?” Lydia questioned.

“Now, we wait until after the full moon reaches its peak,” Deaton explained. “Just because his body is accepting the bite and struggling with the shift doesn’t mean he isn’t immune. Right now your memories are becoming more and more potent for him. He’ll struggle until this full moon passes.” He paused as he opened Scott’s eyelids with his fingertips, flashing a light in them to garner a response. “Welcome back, Mr. McCall,” he greeted Scott when he groaned, turning his head away from the light.

“What happened?” Scott questioned, not recalling the events leading up to his unconscious state.

“You started struggling, unable to handle the moon’s pull,” Isaac explained.

“So I knocked you out,” Jackson casually added.

“Thanks,” Scott deadpanned.

“Get some rest, Scott,” Derek interrupted them. “You’re going to need sleep if you want to survive this full moon.”

Scott didn’t bother to argue with him, allowing his eyes to flutter shut as his body lulled off to sleep.

~*~

_Derek ran his fingers along the base of Stiles’ spine, fingertips gently caressing his skin as he listened to the comforting sound of Stiles’ voice. His eyes traveled along the bare skin of Stiles’ back, igniting a deep appreciation for every curve and contour deep within his core. He enjoyed the way Stiles’ voice fell over him, tone soft and at ease as he read from one of the several texts Harris demanded he finish that month._

_“Are you listening to this?” Stiles suddenly questioned, pausing in his reading as he looked over at Derek._

_Derek tore his eyes away from Stiles back, lids heavy with desire as he took in the sight of Stiles’ naked body sprawled across the blanket beside him._

_Stiles closed the book, dropping it beside them as he crawled his way over Derek’s body._

_“You need to finish that,” Derek answered, his statement contradictory to his actions as he allowed Stiles to forget about the old text in favor of him._

_“Why finish that when I have a very attractive,”—Stiles placed a languid kiss against Derek’s chest, smiling—“naked man in my room?”_

_Derek released a low chuckle, arching his head back to give Stiles better access to his throat. He relaxed into the fur blanket Stiles had hazardously tossed onto the floor earlier, letting Stiles dominate him as he straddled his hips._

_Stiles didn’t waste time showering Derek’s body in kisses and lover’s bites. He avoided the collar around Derek’s neck at all costs, pretending his father didn’t place it there only a few months ago. He smiled into his kisses when Derek’s hand gently slipped into his hair, his tenderness being forgotten when he began to pull his hair in response to Stiles’ kisses moving past his navel._

_Derek suddenly grew rigid, immediately sitting up as he grabbed Stiles, pulling him away from his previous task._

_Stiles was about to ask what was wrong when his door suddenly burst open. He acted as quickly as he could, grabbing one of the other blankets precariously discarded near them. He wrapped the blanket around himself as he stood to block Derek from view. He released a sigh of relief when he realized it was none other than Lydia._

_“What are you doing?” Stiles demanded, his relief turning to anger that she burst in, unannounced._

_“Your father is coming to see you,” Lydia hurriedly stated as she closed the door._

_Derek snatched his discarded trousers, pulling them on quickly as he stood._

_“He’s on his way here, now?” Stiles asked in panic, abandoning his hold on the blanket to dress himself._

_The knock on the door made all of them pause their movements. Stiles stared at the door in horror, frozen in fear at what could happen._

_“Derek, get out on the balcony,” Lydia harshly whispered, pushing Derek towards the tinted glass that stopped the morning’s light from entering the room._

_Derek quickly moved, hesitating as he looked back at Stiles. Stiles held his gaze before nodding, a silent confirmation that everything would be okay. Derek opened the door as small as possible before slipping outside. He moved to sit by the side of the balcony, keeping himself completely out of sight of any human guards passing by, waiting to hear what he was certain would be the inevitable end of his relationship with Stiles._

_Stiles turned to Lydia, not knowing what to do. He was panicking, knowing his father would somehow question his current appearance; why Lydia was there; why he wasn’t answering the door._

_“Stiles?” Jon’s voice questioned as the door started to open._

_Lydia instantly acted, grabbing Stiles as she pushed him towards the bed, causing him to splay across the mattress on his back. She quickly pulled her coat from her body, tossing it to the side before loosing her corset._

_Stiles’ eyebrows jumped in question as Lydia moved to straddle his waist. He held back his protest when Lydia grabbed him, capturing his lips with her own. His hands moved to push her off before he finally understood what she was doing. Instead, he moved to grasp her hips, holding onto her tightly as he rolled them._

_They both knew Jon was in the room when he cleared his throat._

_Stiles acted first, releasing his hold on Lydia as he jumped back from her, scrambling off the bed._

_“Father,” Stiles stated in surprise. He bashfully moved to collect his shirt, pulling the material over his head in a hurry before he moved to grab Lydia’s coat. He placed it across her shoulders as she remained silent on the bed with her eyesight avoiding both Stiles’ and his father’s._

_“I didn’t realize you were preoccupied,” Jon calmly stated._

_Stiles looked down at Lydia, feeling guilty that she was tarnishing her own reputation to keep his relationship with Derek a secret._

_“Lydia and I were just—we just—” Stiles stammered for an explanation._

_Jon held up his hand. “I don’t need details, Stiles,” he stated in a slightly wry manner._

_“I apologize,” Lydia finally spoke, moving to stand as she slipped her coat the rest of the way on. “I’ll give you privacy,” she added a bow, moving past Jon. She gave Stiles a fleeting look, trying to let him know that this was his one way of putting another wall up between him and discovery._

_Stiles sighed once Lydia closed the door. He felt like a fox falling victim to a hound hunt. He bashfully rubbed the back of his neck, daring to look up at his father. He was surprised to find a faint smile crossing his father’s lips._

_“I have to say, I never thought I’d walk in on that,” Jon commented._

_“Father,” Stiles sighed in agitation, an embarrassed blush staining his cheeks._

_“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to comment,” Jon honestly answered, holding his hands up in a placating manner._

_“Did you have to speak with me?” Stiles tried to change the subject._

_Jon’s small smile faded, the corners of his mouth pointing down in a frown. “Unfortunately,” he sighed. “It was about … well, about something similar to this.”_

_A spasm of fear ran through Stiles’ body, knowing that the conversation was bound to fall this way. It was always his luck to have to face his father whenever he desperately wanted to avoid it._

_“About?” Stiles questioned in mock confusion._

_“About Derek,” Jon answered, accepting his son as being ignorant._

_“Oh,” Stiles replied, moving to sit on the edge of the bed._

_“You haven’t spoken to me since that night,” Jon stated. “You were very adamant about your feelings for him.”_

_Stiles looked down, biting his bottom lip as he thought of protesting. But he knew his father would only grow angry with him for disobeying if he knew. “You forbid me to go near him,” he replied. “It’s difficult for affection to blossom while never together.”_

_“Your affections have not had trouble finding another,” Jon countered._

_Stiles turned to look at the balcony, positive Derek was still there. He knew he could hear every word of the conversation, and he only hoped that he would let Stiles explain later._

_“Derek is an animal,” Stiles sternly stated, boring a hole into the balcony’s doors in hopes Derek could feel his gaze—would know that these words meant nothing._

_Jon paused, processing his son’s words. “You believe that now?”_

_“I learned my place,” Stiles weakly replied. “And I learned his as well. I thought he was more than that … But now I know better. He’s nothing but a monster.” He hated how convinced his voice sounded—he sounded like a stranger, spewing beliefs he never let cross his mind before._

_“Derek is a good man,” Jon hesitantly admitted. “If he wasn’t born a Lycan—”_

_“But he is a Lycan,” Stiles harshly stated as he looked at his father. “A filthy animal below our station.” He wanted his father to leave; he wanted to beg Derek to come back inside; he wanted Derek to let him apologize._

_Jon nodded, accepting his son’s statement. “This all being said, I’ll be more careful when calling on you during the day.”_

_Stiles nodded, thankful that this would give him more privacy—more time to be with Derek._

_“Can we put this—our argument about Derek—behind us?” Jon questioned as he stood._

_“It’s already behind us, father,” Stiles answered as he stood to follow Jon. He waited until the door latched behind Jon before turning his attention towards the balcony._

_“Derek,” Stiles softly called, hoping he would be able to hear him if he still lingered on the balcony. He released a relieved breath when the doors partially opened, allowing Derek to slip back into the room. He didn’t hesitate to move forward, reaching his hands out to cup Derek’s face in his open palms. “My love, I’m so sorry. My father—”_

_Derek pushed past Stiles’ opened arms, almost shouldering him as he moved to collect his missing shirt. He remained silent as he snatched the shirt from among the blankets, harshly yanking it onto his body as he kept his back to Stiles._

_Stiles’ stomach clenched and coiled with every second Derek refused to look at him. “Derek,” he softly called his name. “Derek, please look at me,” he pleaded when Derek refused to turn his attentions towards him._

_“If it suits your highness all the same, I should go,” Derek stated. His voice was grainy, completely distant from everything earlier._

_“Don’t do that,” Stiles’ voice cracked as he felt a void being wedged between them._

_“I have work to do,” Derek stated. “Work that needs to be finished before sundown.”_

_“Please just look at me,” Stiles started as he moved to close the space between them, reaching out for Derek’s arm. He recoiled instantly when Derek stormed back over to the balcony the moment Stiles’ fingertips grazed his skin, as if he had been burned by their touch. “Don’t leave like this,” he begged when he noticed Derek’s hand resting on the handle._

_“I’m a **filthy** animal—a monster than doesn’t deserve to be within the same confines as anyone else,” Derek hollowly stated._

_“You know I didn’t mean any of that,” Stiles replied, his voice breaking as he stood frozen to his spot._

_Derek shook his head. He turned the handle, opening the door without realizing Stiles was moving forward to grab him. He didn’t realize that Stiles was at the perfect angle to be hit by the stream of light._

_The minute the sunlight peeked through the door, Stiles released a pained gasp, stumbling backwards into the dark of his room as he clasped his hand to his chest, an attempt to hide the welting burn mark across the back of his hand._

_Derek quickly turned to look at Stiles when he heard his whimper, eyes immediately falling towards his hand. He looked as if he was about to abandon his attempt to leave, as if he was about the close the door and fall back into Stiles’ arms._

_Stiles looked up at Derek hopefully, wanting nothing more than for him to come back into the room—to stay and talk with him. “Don’t leave,” he breathlessly begged, attempting to step forward, only to lurch backwards when he noticed the stream of sunlight separating them—barring him from moving closer to Derek._

_Derek opened his mouth to speak before a frown over took his features. He quickly shook his head before slipping onto the balcony, closing the door behind him._

_Stiles instantly moved to stand in front of the door, his broken pleas for Derek to come back being lost amongst his tears as he weakly pawed at the door._

~*~

Stiles’ footsteps stumbled, causing him to reach out for support. He fell against the brick wall, his vision blurring as he recalled vision after vision of a time long ago. He could feel the fingertips ghost over his spine, placing him at ease as he recalled time after time being with the man he thought to be Derek Hale. He knew the Lycans had brought Scott into the abandoned subway, but his visions were growing more demanding, flickering across his mind with every step he took. Ever since he saw Derek, the visions were becoming clearer, a constant improvement from his former blurred images.

“Stiles!”

Stiles jerked at the mention of his name, turning to face the owner of the voice. “Allison? How did you find me?” He asked as he moved to stand upright, an attempt to hide his instability.

“You’re not that hard to follow,” Allison answered. “I went back to the safe house. Scott isn’t there.”

“I know, the Lycans have him,” Stiles explained, leaning against the brick wall for support.

“You don’t look well,” Allison commented as she took in Stiles’ weakened appearance.

“I’ll be fine,” Stiles replied.

“Were you planning on going in there alone?” Allison questioned.

“I _am_ going in there alone,” Stiles corrected her.

“Like hell you are,” Allison snapped. “You’re insane if you think I’m going to let you head into a Lycans den by yourself.”

“They won’t hurt me,” Stiles explained.

“Stiles, you’re not thinking right,” Allison hurriedly protested.

“Allison,” Stiles sternly stated her name, catching her attention. “For the first time in centuries, I’m thinking clearly. Just trust me and stay out here.”

Allison opened her mouth to protest, before she reluctantly closed it. She sighed, rolling her eyes before agreeing. “Fine, okay. I’ll wait outside. But the minute I hear anything suspicious—”

“Come in, bullets and arrows blazing,” Stiles faintly smiled.

“That was one time, and your squeak of surprise sounds like a call for help,” Allison faintly smiled back.

Stiles gently gripped her shoulder, a small reassurance that everything would be okay. He trudged down into the abandoned subway, not entirely uncertain he was walking into his doom.

~*~

“What will you do now?” Lydia asked as she shifted her weight. She slowly moved across the abandoned subway, her hand idly sweeping across the metal bars of the gate. She often thought of living a life outside of the comfort of the Coven’s expenses, never fully understanding just how convenient it was to reap the benefits of money stored away for centuries.

“What do you mean?” Derek hollowly questioned.

“Now that Scott’s blood may not cure everyone; now that Stiles isn’t Stiles,” Lydia sadly commented. “What will you do now?”

“Try to stop Gerard some other way,” Derek answered.

“You’re still going to fight?” Lydia questioned. “When you can walk away from it all, you want to stay?”

“There’s no walking away from it, Lydia,” Derek replied. “There was never a chance to walk away from it. What Gerard did to … to him—to Jackson, Boyd and Isaac,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “There’s no walking away from Gerard. He’s a monster that needs to be stopped. Otherwise, no one is safe.”

Lydia nodded in agreement, knowing that Derek was right. “Well, you have my assistance—whatever you need.”

Derek nodded in thanks.

The room fell quiet as they sat there and waited for Scott to either accept the bite, turning him into a Lycan, or for his body to reject it and somehow eradicate it from his system.

Scott whimpered as another tremor racked through his body, forcing him to toss and turn. He pulled against the chains restraining him, a weak attempt to free himself from the bondage. Images of Derek’s life flashed across his mind as if they were his own memories. He could feel the sadness and loneliness haunting Derek’s every waking moment. And then suddenly, a burst of joy, of incandescent happiness followed with memories of Stiles.

Everything turned sour the moment memories of being shackled to the ground, Stiles bound to the column in front of him, just out of reach. Anger, guilt, pain, hatred. So many emotions flooded Scott’s senses as he felt Derek’s pain like it was his own. A final feeling of pure agony hit him as he watched Stiles burn. He could feel the way Derek’s throat burned as he screamed Stiles’ name.

Scott jerked awake, blinking as he willed his eyes to function. He tried to reach for his head, his arm catching on the shackle around his wrist. He looked down before searching out someone to help him. He caught sight of Derek first.

Derek seemed either oblivious or indifferent to Scott’s awakened state, ignoring his movements to continue his own silent contemplation.

“They forced you to watch him die,” Scott suddenly stated once the fog of his mind started to disappear.

Boyd and Isaac froze their movements, eyes hesitantly wandering over to Derek.

Derek remained still, as if he didn’t hear Scott’s statement.

“Stiles. His death started this war,” Scott continued. “Not because you killed him … but they did. The council—Gerard. They killed him and forced you to watch.”

Derek didn’t bother looking at Scott or the others, knowing they were watching him for a reaction. His fingers subconsciously moved to touch the pendant hanging around his neck—Stiles’ pendant. He tried to push away the memories of that day, never successful as they constantly haunted his every moment.

“We were slaves once,” Derek finally stated. He looked at Boyd and Isaac, his gaze flicking over to Jackson and Lydia. They all hung their head in silence, remembering how they escaped that day. “Daylight Guardians of the Vampires.”

Jackson scoffed, shaking his head in contempt as he recalled the way the Vampires would chain the Lycans to stand guard along the Coven’s walls. He remembered the way he pitied them, before being turned into one himself.

“Gerard feared us. Feared what we were capable of—that we couldn’t be controlled. He feared me so much, he killed _him_. An Elder’s son—their prince. Burnt alive,” Derek’s voice broke as he vividly recalled the moment the sunlight hit Stiles’ skin. “For loving _me_ ,” he bitterly stated.

Scott could feel the waves of guilt and loneliness rolling off of Derek. He felt the way his heart broke at the memory of losing Stiles. He felt the pain Derek had locked up inside, trying to ignore how he died that day with Stiles.

“This is _Gerard’s_ war, not mine,” Derek scornfully stated as he stood. He turned his attention towards Scott. “And he’s spent the last ten _centuries_ exterminating everything I love.”

“What about Allison?” Scott questioned. “She’s nothing like her grandfather.”

Derek carefully observed Scott. “I suppose that depends on the both of you. If Allison intends us no harm, then she is free to walk away from this. But she cannot remain with Gerard and not expect to be caught in the crossfire.”

“You want her to fight against her family?” Scott asked incredulously.

“I want her to realize that Gerard is not the savior she’s been lead to believe,” Derek replied. “He kills anyone who gets in his way, and that will include Allison. She needs to know that we are not her enemy anymore than she is ours. But as long as Gerard continues to kill innocent people in his thirst for power, we will continue to fight back.”

Derek turned his attention back to the others, a silent agreement forming between them as they stood. Isaac ducked out of the room first, coming back a few seconds later with the keys to Scott’s cuffs. He tossed them to Derek before lingering as if he was waiting for Scott’s decision to join or run.

Derek took a few steps forward, easily using the keys to unlock Scott’s cuffs and freed him.

“You’re letting me go?” Scott questioned.

“The moon is no longer at its peak right now, which means you’ve passed,” Derek explained. “You’re officially not a Lycan. Congratulations, Scott.” Nothing about his tone suggested that he was happy with Scott’s predicament.

“Why?” Scott questioned. “Why drag me into this?”

“You have an immunity,” Derek replied. “And in all honesty, I wish you didn’t. It would make it easier to not ask you to fall into this war. But now that it shows … You’re the answer to ending this. We could end the war within the coming months, curing both species instead us continuing to kill each other.”

“You don’t sound like you’re going to go through with that plan,” Scott stated in a doubtful tone.

“I’m giving you something I never had: the freedom to escape this,” Derek corrected him. He waited until the others exited the room before adding, “We have a few samples of your blood, it should be enough to find a cure. But, if you and Allison want to live through this, don’t think running will save you.”

“Fighting didn’t save you and Stiles,” Scott quietly answered.

“Then run, Scott,” Derek offered in counter argument, his tone tired. “Take Allison and run. And don’t stop running, because Gerard will never stop hunting you.” He turned away from Scott, ready to leave him to his decisions.

“I’m not a Lycan though,” Scott answered.

“It doesn’t matter to Gerard. You’re not a Vampire. You’re the cure to his beloved species, and he won’t stand for it,” Derek explained as he moved towards the door.

“Derek,” Scott called after him.

Derek paused in the doorway, turning to look at Scott.

“About Stiles,” Scott started. “I think … I don’t know what you think, but I think he’s really him.”

Derek shook his head. “I’m not sure which memories of mine you received, or if you even received more than just Stiles’ death,” he started to explain. “But I buried Stiles that night. Lydia, though, thought the same as you—she convinced me to check.” He closed his eyes, allowing his head to hang. “His body still lies at the bottom of that grave. Whoever this new Stiles is … He’s not my Stiles.”

“I’m sorry,” Scott sincerely stated.

“So am I,” Derek concluded before he swiftly exited the room.

~*~

 “The abandoned subway,” Allison stated into the phone, here eyes dashing around her surroundings.

“You’re positive?” Gerard questioned.

“He just went in. He asked me to wait outside,” Allison replied.

“You’re saving his life, Allison,” Gerard’s voice answered.

“He won’t see it that way,” Allison sighed before hanging up. _I’m sorry, Stiles_.

~*~

“We have to leave,” Lydia suddenly announced, her usually calm demeanor completely replaced with untold fear.

“What’s happening?” Derek questioned.

Lydia turned, looking up at the ceiling before scanning their surroundings. “They know we’re here,” she eerily concluded.

“Who?” Isaac questioned.

Lydia snapped her attention towards Derek, tears forming in her eyes as she struggled to accept the answer. “Gerard.”

Derek didn’t have time to react when gunfire echoed throughout the subway, several of the others screaming and calling out. After decades of hiding—centuries of eluding the Vampires—they were finally caught.

“Evacuate! He’s turned it into a trap!” Derek roared over the chaos, hoping his other Betas could hear him. “Isaac, Boyd! Take Lydia and Deaton and get out of here. Now!” He demanded as he turned to head towards the skirmish.

“Derek!” Lydia yelled after him, knowing what he intended. “Don’t do this!”

Derek turned to look at Lydia, a small understanding falling between them. “There was no other way this ended,” he finally answered.

“Don’t you dare belittle what Stiles did for you!” Lydia yelled as she pulled herself out of Isaac’s grip. “He turned his back on his species—on his family. He committed treason. He sacrificed himself—for you!”

Derek refused to look at Lydia, allowing her to yell as much as she wanted.

“Dying now isn’t going to change what happened!” Lydia yanked herself out of Boyd’s attempts to grab her.

“Maybe I’ll finally be able to see him again,” Derek gravely replied.

Lydia was about to protest when an arrow pierced through the air, lodging itself in Derek’s shoulder. Derek roared in pain as he grasped the arrow, wincing slightly before yanking it out of him. They both turned their attention towards the archer.

“Allison?!” Lydia yelled in confusion.

Allison slightly halted before she caught sight of Derek partially shifted, his eyes zoning in on her as the threat. She drew another arrow, shooting it at him as she ignored Lydia’s protests.

Derek easily caught the arrow this time, snapping it in two before dropping it to the floor. “Get Lydia out of here!” He yelled to Boyd before turning to run off where he had left Scott, determined to reach him before Gerard did, even if Allison was following close behind him—dangerously on his heels.

~*~

Stiles drew his gun the moment he heard gunfire. He hurried down the many different tunnels, wishing he took the map from the abandoned information station. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, prompting him to turn and fire at the creature lurking behind him.

“Careful!” Peter yelled as he barely dodged out of the way. “I may be immortal, but bullets still hurt.”

“I’m not going back with you,” Stiles immediately stated, backing away from Peter when he took a step forward.

“I didn’t say I was here to collect you,” Peter replied, raising his hands in a placating manner.

“Where’s Derek?” Stiles questioned, his gun still poised to aim and fire.

“Right to the point, I see,” Peter mumbled under his breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “My nephew is down one of these tunnels,” he started, turning to look at Stiles. “But you’ll never be able to reach him in time to save him.”

“I don’t trust you,” Stiles firmly stated, his eyes never leaving Peter.

“I don’t expect you to,” Peter answered. “Your father sent me here in hopes of stopping Gerard before the rest of the Vampires catch wind of what he's doing. Or before he can convince them to side with him by spinning your tale as one of treachery ... Which is why I’m offering you a gift, in exchange for something else.”

Stiles slightly lowered his gun, still suspicious of Peter’s words.

“I’ll take that as you’re open to the idea,” Peter commented. “I need to know the location of my sister’s tomb,” he explained. “Gerard is the only living creature who knows its location.”

“You want to search his memories for it,” Stiles concluded.

“Precisely,” Peter answered. “But I’ll never be able to get close enough to him. You, on the other hand, are grossly underestimated by Gerard.”

“I don’t have the skill to access memory,” Stiles answered. “If you’ve been paying attention, you’d realize memory is not my specialty.”

Peter smiled at that. “You at least have a positive sense of humor about the whole thing,” he replied. “And you won’t have to worry about that.” He moved to expose his wrist, baring his fangs as he bit down, puncturing his own skin. He displayed his bleeding wrist to Stiles as an offering. “If you drink my blood, you’ll have the power to do more than just search his memories.”

“Meaning?” Stiles skeptically asked.

“Meaning,” Peter wearily started. “You’ll see things you normally wouldn’t. Do things you couldn’t. You’ll be able to enact justice for what was robbed from you.”

Stiles took a step closer to Peter before pausing. The echoes of the skirmish were growing louder, a constant reminder that Stiles was on a timer. “What will I become?” he hesitantly questioned as he stared at the bleeding wrist Peter was offering him.

“You’ll evolve,” Peter replied. “Do you want to save him?”

“I want to _know_ him,” Stiles corrected Peter.

“To know him, you’re going to have to save him,” Peter explained.

Stiles nodded, gently taking Peter’s wrist into his hands. He looked up at Peter for some clue, some hint of what to expect, but received nothing. He slowly lowered his jaw, his fangs growing as he moved to bite down on the exposed flesh of Peter’s wrist.

Peter grunted, wincing as Stiles drank his blood, pulling both memories and untold power from his veins.

Stiles wrenched himself away from Peter as he ripped his fangs from his wrist. He tried to focus on his own scrambled memories, only to be berated by Peter’s as well.

~*~

_“Talia!” Peter yelled as the Death Dealers shot at Talia’s lupine form._

_Talia roared, attempting to curl her body closer to the ground, baring her teeth at the threat. She snapped her teeth at any Death Dealer that moved close to her._

_“Stop it!” Peter bellowed, drawing his sword to dispatch the next Death Dealer that attempted to harm Talia._

_Another roar caused Peter to turn and look at Talia. The arrows lodged in Talia’s limbs were attached to chains, allowing the Death Dealers to pull her to the ground. With Talia splayed helpless on the ground, it was easy for Peter to catch sight of what she was protecting with her body._

_A small baby was abandoned on the ground, his tiny arms and legs rapidly moving as he tried to grab for someone—anyone—to hold on to. He released a small cry, causing Talia to strain against the arrows._

_“Peter!” Gerard snapped as he arrived at the scene. He removed his helmet, glaring from Peter to Talia._

_Peter ignored Gerard and bounded forward, moving towards the baby. He kept his eyes on Talia, noticing her movements still upon registering his approach. He slowly knelt by the baby, cautious in his own movements to pick up the screaming child. He left his sword on the ground in favor of cradling the baby in both his arms._

_Talia released a huff of acceptance, allowing her body to rest against the dirt—her own demonstration of accepting defeat._

_Peter stood with the child, finally casting his eyes down at the tiny creature. He immediately turned when he heard Gerard’s approaching steps._

_“You touch this child, I will rip your throat out myself,” Peter dangerously warned through bared fangs, his eyes flashing blue._

_“That thing is—”_

_“He’s my nephew, and like his mother he will not be killed,” Peter snapped as he stood his ground between Gerard and Talia._

_“Gerard,” Jon’s voice called out to the other Elder._

_“You said Talia wouldn’t be harmed,” Peter stated as he turned his attentions to Jon._

_“She had to be restrained,” Jon stated as his eyes fell onto Talia._

_Peter held the baby closer to his chest when both Jon and Gerard came closer. “What will become of her?” He hesitantly asked._

_“Death is a kindness to that animal,” Gerard cut in. “To her and her offspring.”_

_Peter released a low growl, his eyes flaring blue once more. “You swore she’d be safe,” he stated as he looked at Jon._

_“She can’t be controlled, Peter,” Jon tiredly replied. “Is that … her child?” He asked, turning his attentions to the baby for the first time._

_“She was trying to protect him,” Peter explained._

_“All the more reason for them to share the same fate,” Gerard commented._

_“He’s human,” Jon stated, ignoring Gerard._

_“He’s more than human,” Peter answered as he stared down at the baby, catching sight of his eyes flashing red as he blinked up at Peter._

_“I cannot free Talia from her fate, Peter,” Jon started, pausing as he watched the way Peter looked down at the baby in his arms. “But the child need not suffer that.”_

_“That’s ridiculous!” Gerard snapped._

_“He will remain under constant watch, but he need not suffer such a fate for crimes that are not his,” Jon sternly stated._

_Peter allowed his eyes to move towards Talia as he began to wrap the baby in part of his cloak. He watched as she released another heavy huff, completely lax as she gave up her fight for freedom._

_“I wonder what his name is?” Jon quietly questioned._

_“Derek,” Peter slowly answered._

_Jon arched his eyebrow as he looked at Peter._

_“She always wanted to name her son Derek,” Peter softly stated, watching Talia’s eyes linger on him and the baby._

_Talia contently shut her eyes, understanding that Peter was protecting Derek now. She trusted her brother to protect his nephew as best he could, and ultimately better than she had._

~*~

Stiles stared at Peter, finally understanding what his intentions were. His eyes burned a paler blue, a heightened awareness running through his veins. He turned his head to look down the tunnels, instantly knowing which one would lead him to Derek.

“Now,” Peter sighed, gaining Stiles’ attention once more. “A deal’s a deal.”

Stiles’ eyes fell over Peter. “Why can’t I recall my memories?”

“You’ve gained the ones of mine that will help you understand my motives, nothing more,” Peter explained. “You’ve gained agility, strength, among other abilities that will help you outmatch the others. But in order to get your memories back, you’re going to have to take them back from Gerard.”

Stiles hesitated before turning to abandon Peter, heading down the tunnel and towards Derek.

~*~

“Scott!” Derek called out, heading towards the room he was last in. He frowned when he realized Scott was gone. “Damn it!” He cursed leaving Scott, knowing that he may fall victim to the Death Dealers if left on his own.

Derek halted his steps when he caught the familiar scent once more. He turned, scanning the abandoned rooms as the sounds of gunfire started to cease. He froze when he caught sight of a figure running to a stop, turning his head to and fro in order to search for something—someone. He bit back his initial response of surprise when the man caught sight of him, stepping out of the shadows before slowly halting.

Stiles stared at Derek, a faint familiarity gnawing at his brain as he took in the Lycan’s appearance. He looked exactly as his visions remembered, only to be wearing jeans and a faint blue Henley beneath his beaten leather jacket instead of the old rags he remembered him wearing. His eyes dashed down to his chest, catching sight of the pendant dangling from his neck.

Stiles was startled when Derek took a faltering step towards him, his reactionary response forcing him to raise his gun, aiming it directly at Derek. His finger barely grazed the trigger before he moved it away from the metal lever. His eyes were completely focused on Derek, watching his every movement as he evaluated him.

Derek merely stared back at Stiles, taking in his appearance. He was confused at first, confident that what he was seeing was nothing more than an illusion. This Stiles looked just like _him_ —his limbs long and elegant, his posture erect and alert, his eyes as piercing as they were welcoming. But something pulled at Derek’s heart when he remembered the body at the bottom of the grave. He then grew angry.

It wasn’t this Vampire’s fault that he had a hauntingly familiar look to Stiles; that his was all a part of Gerard’s plan: discover a person who resembled Stiles to put doubt in Derek’s mind. But this imposter only stared at him, eyebrows furrowed as if he didn’t know what to do now that he had Derek in his sights.

“Shoot him,” Gerard’s voice broke the moment as he entered the room from the shadows.

Derek’s glare turned to Gerard, eyes flashing crimson before he took a step towards the Elder. He was determined to rip his throat out, taken off guard when a bullet slammed into the dirt by his foot, halting his advancement. He turned his attention back towards the Vampire that looked like Stiles, noticing that he fired a warning shot instead of Gerard’s ordered kill shot.

“I told you to shoot him, Stiles,” Gerard stated in reprimand.

Derek head snapped to attention as he turned his attention back to Gerard. “You’re that sickly demented that you dared to name your pet project after _him_ ,” his voice bellowed loudly against the barren walls. “After what you did—”

“I think you mean what you did,” Gerard stated in a correcting tone.

“Right,” Derek scoffed. “You told Jon that I murdered his only son. That _I_ was the monster in the night that ripped everything he dearly loved away from him.” He took a moment before shaking his head. “You always were the monster, Gerard, not me.”

“What are you waiting for, Stiles, shoot him,” Gerard stated in response.

Derek turned his attention back towards Stiles. He watched the rigidness in the Vampire’s shoulders as he strained his arm to hold his gun far from his body, as if he was trying to separate himself from the entire situation—as if he wasn’t the one holding the gun.

“You heard him,” Derek stated in a low voice, his eyes flashing crimson as he glared at Stiles. “What are you waiting for, _Stiles_.”

_**Stiles.** _

_“You should still go,” Derek finally replied when Stiles pulled back long enough for him to catch his thoughts._

_“I don’t want to,” Stiles replied. “And neither do you.”_

_“It’s not what we want,” Derek stated in defeat. “I’ve grown up knowing I can’t have you—and today is no different.”_

_“Don’t ruin this with talk of separation,” Stiles replied. “You know how stubborn I am, and just how unwilling I will be to let you go now that you’ve let me have you.”_

**_Stiles._ **

_“You shouldn’t be here,” he stated in earnest as he moved to the door, placing his fingers over Stiles’._

_“You’re awfully happy to see me for saying I shouldn’t be here,” Stiles replied, releasing a small huff of nervous laughter as he ran his thumb over Derek’s fingers._

_“I’m always happy to see you,” Derek replied._

**_Stiles._ **

_“No, Stiles. Don’t, just look at me. Don’t,” Derek started to protest when Stiles’ eyes remained fixed on the roof—focusing on his impending death. “Just keep your eyes on me. Stiles! Look at me!” Derek yelled._

Derek’s voice rang in Stiles’ ear, a repeated mantra that dug at his nonexistent past. It clawed at the memories he tried to access for centuries—the memories that were locked away—taken from him.

A collective of memories—of another life—started to flood all of Stiles’ senses. It was as if a door to another world had been opened, changing Stiles’ understanding of everything. He felt the sudden outpouring of pain and love from another time suddenly consume him.

~*~

_Derek was startled awake by a hand resting on his bicep. He was never disturbed in the forge, the guards keeping to themselves as they glowered whenever passing by Derek. He was surprised when he immediately recognized his intruder as none other than Stiles._

_Stiles placed a gentle finger against Derek’s lips when he tried to speak out. He slipped his hand into Derek’s, forcing Derek up out of his cot with no other choice than to follow him._

_They both remained silent as they snuck through the tunnels, Derek turning his head from side to side as he attempted to memorize their route through the maze of tunnels. Stiles’ hand finally left Derek’s when they reached their destination—the top of the old keep overlooking the Coven._

_Stiles moved to lean against the crumbling railing, testing its strength before resting his weight against it. His eyes scanned the rooftops before he looked up at the sky, taking in the moon’s light with a faint smile._

_“Why did you bring me here, your highness?” Derek made sure to use the proper greeting._

_“Please don’t,” Stiles sighed, turning his attention towards Derek. “You never call me that.”_

_“It’s what I should call you,” Derek stubbornly replied._

_“Should call me,” Stiles pursed his lips at the thought._

_“It’s proper,” Derek answered._

_“Proper?” Stiles’ voice sounded more annoyed than anything else. “Kissing me, touching me, whispering honeyed words to me. Were those proper?”_

_Derek remained silent, knowing he could not win this fight._

_“Are you really mad with me still?” Stiles questioned. “Do you not think it pains me to breathe life into those words? To have to think about them, let alone speak them? I feel vile having to lie like that and pretend I mean it.”_

_“I’m not … I’m never mad at you,” Derek sighed in exhaustion. “I’m mad at … everyone else.”_

_Stiles nodded, his gaze fixed on the rubble around them. “Peter and my father have taken to slumbering for a century,” he finally stated. “Gerard is the sole Elder now.”_

_“And now begins his reign of terror,” Derek solemnly stated. “Shouldn’t you be at the celebration?”_

_Stiles looked up at Derek, biting down on his bottom lip. “I should, but I opted out for retiring early.”_

_Derek nodded in response, accepting Stiles answer as sufficient enough reason to blow off Gerard’s celebration._

_“I wanted to see you,” Stiles continued, taking a few steps closer to Derek._

_“And so you are seeing me,” Derek answered, carefully evaluating Stiles’ movements._

_Stiles paused, surprising Derek when he pulled his shirt over his head, discarding it on the floor. He came to stand just in front of Derek, his skin practically glowing under the moon’s light as he reached his fingertips up to run them across Derek’s bare chest._

_Derek moved his hands to settle on Stiles’ hips, his thumbs rubbing small, soothing circles into the skin just above his trousers. He let Stiles take the lead, allowing him to lean in first, capturing Derek’s lips with his._

_Stiles pulled back enough, his lips barely ghosting over Derek’s as he spoke. “Make love to me,” he softly requested, his eyelids heavy with desire as he pressed his body into Derek’s. “Make me yours. For now and forever.”_

_Derek’s eyes flashed crimson, his desire weighing down on him. “Even after … Even after I burned you?” His hand moved to hold Stiles’ hand that had been burned. He pressed his thumb against the no longer marred flesh, completely capable of vividly recalling the way Stiles’ skin had burn and blistered upon contact._

_“You didn’t mean to,” Stiles calmly answered, untangling that hand from Derek’s in order to reach up and cup Derek’s cheek in his open palm._

_Derek closed his eyes, pressing into the comfort of Stiles’ welcomed caress. “You’re sure?” He questioned as he opened his eyes, his own hands resting on Stiles’ hips as he drew their bodies closer together._

_“I love you,” Stiles explained. “I’ve been sure for decades.”_

_Derek pressed a light kiss against Stiles’ lips, breathing a soft, “As I love you,” in return._

_They took all the time they needed, dedicating enough time and devotion to every curve of each other’s bodies. Their kisses were languid yet feverish, filled with both love and desperation._

_With every bruising kiss, Stiles gasped words of encouragement into Derek’s mouth. Derek placed slow, hot kisses along Stiles’ jawline, peppering his body in faint marks that briefly blemished the skin before vanishing completely. Their hips moved to meet each other through the short, languid grinds that built a steady fire in their base of their spines._

_A soft sound escaped Stiles’ throat, a small plea to feel more. Derek obliged, pulling Stiles’ body against his, fitting them together perfectly as they moved in unison. Stiles released a low whine as Derek continued to shower attention on prepping him thoroughly. He wiggled his hips against Derek’s grip, adjusting his body to take Derek’s fingers even deeper. He released an indignant moan at the playful slap Derek retaliated with against his ass._

_“Derek,” Stiles whimpered, pleading for him not to tease him any longer._

_“I have you,” Derek reassuringly stated, pressing delicate kisses across his chest. He moved his hands across the span of Stiles’ stomach, settling on his hips. He started to move Stiles, prompting him to turn onto his hands and knees._

_Stiles shook his head, spreading his legs wider to house Derek’s hips as he wrapped them around his waist. He reached his hands up, pressing one against Derek’s chest as the other sought out Derek’s face. “I want to be able to look upon you face,” he explained, placing a lazy kiss against Derek’s lips the moment he felt Derek brush against his entrance._

_“Always,” Derek panted back as he pressed inside Stiles, both of them moaning at the slow build of pressure._

_Stiles released an unfamiliar noise, his nails digging at Derek’s back as his body adjusted to the new intrusion. He sighed at the feeling of Derek’s hands gingerly sliding over the smooth skin of his torso, coaxing the pain away._

_“Move,” Stiles barely whispered against Derek’s shoulder, mouthing against the edge of his clavicle. He cursed at the sensation of Derek’s slow and sweet thrusts, rolling their hips together in much needed friction._

_Derek dug his blunt teeth into the soft skin of Stiles’ chest, eliciting an approving moan from Stiles as he ran his hands through Derek’s hair. He gently nosed against Stiles’ throat, inhaling deeply as his scent rapidly spurred the snap of his hips._

_“Oh, Derek!” Stiles’ voice hitched when Derek’s speed increased._

_“Perfect, Stiles, so perfect,” Derek uttered between thrusts as he leaned up to press a kiss to Stiles’ lips._

_Stiles laughed into their kiss, releasing a provocative moan as he bit down on Derek’s bottom lip. His moans turned to pleas for Derek to make him come, unable to handle the pleasure building in the pit of his stomach. “Please,” he begged against Derek’s lips, a surprised moan forced from him with one particularly hard thrust. His entire body constricted as his orgasm washed over him, pulling his thoughts away from everything but the feeling of Derek moving inside him. He tightened his grip on Derek, never wanting to part from him._

_Derek tried to keep his pace timed, to maintain a calm rhythm. But the way Stiles twisted and turned, emitting moans and praise beneath him, Derek couldn’t stop himself from losing control. His hips snapped with precision as he drove into Stiles, forcing waves of pleasure through him even in the aftermath of his climax. His movements finally stuttered, coming inside Stiles with the feeling of his fingertips digging into his lower back, their eyes locked with one another._

_“I love you,” Derek panted as his strength slowly came back to him._

_“As I love you,” Stiles smiled as he pressed their foreheads together._

~*~

“Derek,” Stiles’ voice cracked, unable to process what was happening.

Tears gathered in Stiles eyes as he recalled the night he clawed his way out of the grave. He remembered screaming for Derek, calling his name as he tried to will his body to move faster. He remembered Gerard finding him before he was strong enough to fight back. He _remembered_ teeth sinking into his neck, draining his memories away to make him a blank slate.

Derek stared at him, until hope suddenly flashed across his face. He watched the tremble in Stiles’ bottom lip as he fought against some unknown force raking through his mind. He looked up to catch his gaze, staring into his eyes as he truly looked for the first time.

And Derek instantly knew that he knew those eyes staring back at him.

_Stiles’ eyes constantly looked bigger than the normal size of other people’s eyes, an illusion given by his small, upturned nose. His irises were an unique color, even more rare to Derek who was forced to stare at the ground or icy blue glares. Stiles had complained whenever Derek lovingly described his features, furiously blushing as he tried to hide that feature from Derek’s showers of kisses. And out of all features, Derek cherished Stiles’ eyes more than anything. He often described them as raw, crystalized amber, or swirling pools of sun kissed honey. Stiles would often groan as he silenced Derek with feverish kisses in hopes he would end his embarrassment by keeping silent._

But Derek, however, could describe Stiles’ eyes even if he was driven blind—he could describe Stiles’ eyes even after centuries of not being able to look upon them.

“Stiles,” Derek breathed in disbelief, unwilling to let himself hope that what he was seeing was real.

“Enough of this! Shoot him!” Gerard yelled, causing Stiles to flinch.

Stiles looked torn, as if he was still uncertain by whatever was happening to him. He looked as if he was pleading Derek to help him—to make him understand what the truth was.

So, Derek said the only thing he could think of. “Stiles, look at me,” he started. “Just me …” He waited until Stiles’ eyes were devoted to just him, everything around them bleeding into the background—nothing else mattered. That was what made it easier for him to utter the words he hadn’t spoken in centuries—words that were only ever meant for Stiles to hear. Words that Derek refused to ever allow himself to speak again—words that had felt like poison to think that he once dared to utter them.

“I love you.”

Stiles closed his eyes, allowing a few tears to drop as he released a small shudder. He opened his eyes, gaze fixed on Derek. He offered him a small, sad smile—the exact same smile Stiles offered Derek whenever they were forced to part from one another’s company. Unshed tears welled in his eyes as he whispered, “As I love you.”


	6. A Kiss of Sunlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Violence and mayhem in this chapter. Nothing too intense though.
> 
> Enjoy!

For the first time, it was easy for Stiles to make a decision without regret. He immediately spun, aiming his gun at Gerard. He opened fire, hitting the Elder several times. He knew it wouldn’t kill him, but it was enough to injure him. He dodged out of the way when Gerard shot his own gun at him, hiding behind one of the many pillars. He paused, peeking out from behind the pillar only to see that Gerard had retreated.

Stiles stepped out from behind the pillar, his eyes scanning his surroundings. He released a sigh of relief before he started to walk backwards, towards Derek.

“Derek, he’ll be back, and with more Death Dealers. You have to—” Stiles didn’t get to finish as he turned to look at Derek.

Derek had closed the gap between them, hands cupping Stiles’ face gently as he pressed their lips together. He held Stiles close, not wanting to risk this welcomed reunion for another illusion.

“Derek,” Stiles moaned his name against his lips, his hands settling on Derek’s waist as he clung to him.

“I never thought I’d see you again,” Derek finally confessed in a rush, his lips still hovering close to Stiles’ as he stole small kisses here and there. “Never hold you again.”

“As did I,” Stiles replied. “Gerard kept my memories from me. I don’t have them all, but—” He silenced himself as he pulled back far enough to examine Derek’s face. “But he could never keep my love for you away from me,” he stated as a sad smile crossed his lips, the weight of the centuries he spent alone finally weighing on him. “No matter what he did, I knew you. I always knew something was missing, and then I saw you the other night and knew for certain.”

Derek pulled Stiles into another kiss, wrapping his arms around him as he tried to keep the familiar weight comforting him. The last time he held Stiles in his arms, his body was wrapped in a cloak that barely held his charred limbs together. But here he was, breathing—kissing him.

“This feels like a dream,” Stiles breathed, a frightened laugh bubbling up from his chest.

“Then I’ll tear the throat out of any man that tries to wake us from this,” Derek replied, pressing his forehead against Stiles’ as he closed his eyes. “I’ve dreamt of this for far to long, but to actually have you now … it’s—”

“Frightening,” Stiles finished for him. He ran his fingertips over Derek’s cheeks, reveling in the familiarity. “Exciting, but frightening,” he added.

“How is this real?” Derek questioned.

“I remember crawling from the tree—our oak tree,” Stiles explained. “I called out for you, but I was too weak to do anything. I wasn’t strong enough to fight off Gerard when he found me.”

“I buried you under the oak tree,” Derek stated. “I … your body’s still there,” he weakly admitted.

“That doesn’t—” Stiles stopped himself, trying to focus on his memories. A chill ran up his spine as he remembered a blurred image of Gerard murdering the Death Dealer he had with him. He burned the corpse, pulling the cloak from Stiles’ body to wrap the newly charred remains in before dumping it in the grave.

“Gerard,” Stiles stated as he looked up at Derek. “He put another Vampire’s body there—in case you came back.”

Derek released a bitter laugh. “It worked,” he roughly confessed.

“Don’t,” Stiles softly stated as he cupped Derek’s face in his hands. He gently ran his thumbed across Derek’s cheekbones, brushing away the tears that built there.

Derek closed his eyes as he pressed his face into Stiles’ opened palm, taking comfort at the previously lost familiarity.

“I may not have all my memories, but I know when you are blaming yourself for something,” Stiles explained. “And none of this was your fault.”

~*~

“Gerard,” Allison called out when she saw him leaning against the wall, gently sliding down to the ground. She paused when she saw the blood smeared against the wall, trailing after Gerard’s body. “What happened?”

“Stiles,” Gerard huffed.

“You promised me—”

“I didn’t harm him,” Gerard snapped. “He’s been manipulated by Derek,” he coughed a little, spitting out blood.

Allison crouched beside him, eyes moving across Gerard’s body as she inspected him. “He shot you with wolfsbane bullets,” she quietly commented.

“I won’t die,” Gerard concluded. “He wanted to scare me off. Derek wanted time to escape with him. You have to stop them.”

“I won’t hurt Stiles,” Allison firmly stated.

“Derek has him,” Gerard explained. “He’ll try and twist his misunderstandings to benefit him—make him think that they love each other.”

“I can’t just—”

“He is the head of the Lycans,” Gerard quickly stated. “The Coven’s rules still apply here: kill him.” He waited as he watched Allison struggle with the objective. “Kill him and save Stiles from another nightmare. Avenge your mother and the countless others Derek Hale has made suffer,” he added as he pressed his handgun into Allison’s hand.

Allison looked down at the gun, its weight exceptionally heavy in her hand, unlike all its predecessors. She looked up at Gerard before weakly nodding, the death of her mother still raw in her mind even after centuries of fighting.

~*~

“We need to leave,” Derek suddenly stated as he turned his attentions back to where the skirmish had broken out. “There are Death Dealers all over the place, and my Betas can’t hold them off. Everyone is fleeing—”

“I can’t,” Stiles replied, forcing Derek to turn and look at him once more.

“Stiles, I’m not letting you out of my sight, and I’m not letting you stay here,” Derek argued in return.

“I promised your uncle I would end this,” Stiles replied.

“Peter? How—”

“Does anyone know how that man survives the ages?” Stiles asked in an amused tone.

“What did he want?” Derek wearily questioned.

“He gave me some of his blood,” Stiles answered. “In return for securing the location of … of your mother’s prison.”

Derek’s features softened at the mention of his mother. “You don’t owe him anything, Stiles.”

“Don’t you want your mother to be free?” Stiles questioned.

“Stiles,” Derek sighed. “Before she was imprisoned, she caused chaos. She brutally murdered—she couldn’t be controlled.”

“She listened to your uncle,” Stiles explained. “I saw the memory. She was trying to protect you.”

Derek’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“You were just a baby,” Stiles replied. “But she stopped fighting when she realized she couldn’t fight back anymore; when Peter would protect you from the others.”

“Peter showed you this?” Derek questioned.

“He did,” Stiles answered.

“He could have changed it. He could have—” Derek took a sharp intake of breath, struggling to accept that his uncle cared about him more than he thought possible.

Stiles slipped his hand into Derek’s, pulling him from his thoughts. “Regardless, I need to access Gerard’s memories if I’m to get my own back.”

“Do you think I care whether you have those memories or not?” Derek asked in confusion. “I don’t care if you remember everything—anything. All I’ve ever wanted is to have you back in my arms—to have the future we always said we would.”

“What if it matters to me?” Stiles asked. “I’ve spent centuries without those memories. I don’t feel like myself without them,” he weakly explained. “Gerard robbed us of centuries together, but those memories are mine, and I will take them back from him.”

“I’ve spent so long in the past, I sometimes forget that I’m even living,” Derek replied. “If you want those memories back, then I’ll help you.” He reached up, gently caressing Stiles cheek. “But know that I don’t care whether you remember or not.”

“I know,” Stiles smiled as he placed a gentle kiss on Derek’s lips.

Derek yanked himself back from Stiles, roaring in pain as an arrow pierced his shoulder. He turned to see Allison stringing another arrow in her bow, determination to land another shot evident across her face.

Stiles grabbed Derek by the shoulders, forcing him towards cover as they barely escaped the arrow. He turned to look at Derek’s shoulder, swiftly forcing the arrow the rest of the way through Derek’s body. He inspected Derek’s arm, gently running his hand over the wound, releasing a sigh of relief when he noticed it healing.

“Allison,” Stiles called out to her from behind their cover, placing his hands on Derek’s chest to stop him from moving.

“Stiles, get away from him,” Allison called back.

Derek released a faint growl, silencing himself at Stiles’ request.

“Allison, whatever your grandfather told you is a lie,” Stiles called back. “I know the truth.”

“He’s a Lycan, Stiles!” Allison yelled back. “His kind have murdered so many.”

“Just like the Vampires,” Stiles stated.

“Allison!” Scott suddenly yelled her name, taking the others by surprise.

“Scott, get out of here,” Allison quickly stated, her attention split between him and trying to hit Derek with another arrow.

“No,” Scott defiantly replied. “Allison, listen to Stiles.”

“Scott, please don’t make me hurt you too,” Allison hesitantly stated.

“You don’t want to do this, I know you don’t,” Scott answered. “I’ve seen the memories, Allison. I saw what happened the night the war started. Gerard used Stiles as a trap to kill Derek. And as a result, he killed Stiles as well. He wanted to use them both as examples.”

Allison hesitated, her strain on her bow’s string lessened as her eyes flickered over to Scott. “Those could have been manipulated. They could …”

“Derek wants to end the war,” Scott continued. “I’m immune, Allison. They could use my blood as a cure for both species and this war. I’ve … I’ve decided to stay and help. You can too. You don’t have to blindly follow orders anymore.”

“Allison, please,” Stiles pleaded. “I know you, and this— _this_ isn’t you. It’s Gerard.” He hesitantly stood, allowing Derek’s hands to slip from him. He moved out into the opening, allowing Allison to see him. “For the first time in this new life, I know who I am, Allison,” he softly stated. “I’m not going to abandon him now because you can’t see the truth. I know he’s a good man, and I know he wouldn’t have hurt your mother.”

“Victoria Argent was a good woman,” Derek broke his silence. “She demanded we move from her land, so we left, but Gerard was close on our heels. She told us to leave, because she didn’t want her daughter dragged into this war. She said she’d rather see you dead than dragged into this.”

Allison turned her head away, blinking back the tears burning her eyes. “You’re … you’re lying!”

“Think about it, Allison,” Stiles pleaded. “Think about everything that is happening. It’s all part of Gerard’s plan. We’re playing directly into his hands. This is what he wants to happen.”

Derek hesitated before joining Stiles out in the opening, giving Allison an easy target. “I’ve never harmed a human, nor ever would. Every single one of my Betas asked for the bite. And when we left your home, your mother was still alive.”

Allison was torn, her grip on her bow slipping.

“Gerard has the memories trapped in his blood,” Stiles explained. “Allison, please, help me get those memories back, along with the countless others he’s kept.”

Allison started to lower her bow, her features softening as she let the information sink in.

Bang!

Stiles startled at the sound of the gunshot, his attention shifting from Allison to Scott, realizing that both of them were as surprised by the sound. His eyes darted towards Derek, his breath catching in his throat the moment he saw the blood splattered across his chest.

Everything slowed, Stiles chest constricting the moment he realized what was happening—it was Derek who had been shot. Another bullet followed, multiple bullets seeking a single target: Derek’s heart.

“No,” Stiles weakly protested as he lost his voice, reaching for Derek. He wrapped his arms around Derek’s waist as he hastily eased them both to the ground, not knowing what to do. He looked up when he heard Allison’s gasp followed by stumbling steps. He saw Allison standing between Scott and none other than Gerard.

“Get out of the way Allison,” Gerard demanded.

“No,” Allison sternly stated, her voice briefly shaking as she defiant remained the last obstacle between Gerard and Scott.

“Allison,” Gerard stated in warning. “Move away from him, or you will face punishment as well.”

Stiles turned his attention back to Derek, his normally nimble fingers shaking as he moved Derek’s shirt to inspect his wounds. He began to panic when he realized Derek wasn’t healing like he should, the bullet holes bleeding more than normal.  “Why isn’t he healing?” He asked in a hurry.

Derek sucked in a deep, harsh breath as the pain in his chest grew, radiating throughout his body in waves. His chest constricted, trying to force the bullets from his skin as they normally did. Only this time, there was nothing to remove.

“Liquid wolfsbane,” Gerard easily answered. “There’s nothing to claw out this time. The wolfsbane immediately enters the system.”

“No,” Stiles shook his head in disbelief as he looked down at Derek. He cradled Derek’s head in his hands. “Tell me what to do,” he whispered. “Tell me how to fix it.”

Derek moved a shaking hand to grasp Stiles’ arm, pulling him closer. “Kill him,” he quietly replied. “Don’t let him get away.”

“You promised Scott would be safe,” Allison stated, reaching a hand back to guarantee that Scott was still shielded behind her. She was thankful when his fingers wrapped around hers. “He’s a human, he has nothing to do with this.”

“He doesn’t care,” Stiles announced, his attention still focused on Derek. “He’s wanted to rid himself of Scott from the beginning. Of Derek. Of _me_.”

“You were a mistake from the beginning,” Gerard snapped back. “Jon let sentimental ties to his human life hold him back. You were the last thing he had of his beloved Claudia—he would let the entire species burn if it meant giving you what you wanted.”

“Stiles was telling the truth, wasn’t he? You killed the prince?” Allison questioned, taking slow steps backwards in hopes to keep a distance between Scott and Gerard.

“Stiles murdered his own kind,” Gerard venomously replied as his eyes fell on Stiles. “He cohabited with that _animal_ —he planned to free the other ones.”

“What Derek said was true,” Allison weakly stated.

“He twists words and opinions to fit his own needs,” Gerard answered.

“Funny,” Allison bitterly scoffed. “He said the same thing about you.” She glared at her grandfather, anger boiling in her veins. “It was you, wasn’t it? You killed my mother and blamed it on Derek. You—you turned me into a Death Dealer after my mother forbid it.”

“You’re an Argent, Allison,” Gerard answered. “Argents are meant to be fighters, nothing weak or inferior about us.”

“That’s how you justify murdering my mother?” Allison furiously demanded. “Forcing me to accept a lie as truth! Everything you ever said was a lie! You blamed Derek for all of your crimes.”

“I did what was necessary to _protect_ the species,” Gerard replied. “As I am forced to do, yet again.” He turned his attentions towards Scott.

“No!” Stiles protested as he scrambled to stand.

Gerard quickly turned and shot Stiles’ knee, forcing him to the ground as he bit out a curse. “I’ll get to you and Derek in a moment.”

“I hope I live long enough to watch my father choke the life from you!” Stiles snapped, his hand still protectively resting against Derek’s chest. He took comfort in the feeling of his chest still rising and falling beneath his hand.

“So you’ve regained your retched memories then,” Gerard commented.

“Not all of them,” Stiles replied. “But enough to know exactly what kind of evil you are. I’ll rip the rest of my memories from your corpse,” he threatened through his fangs.

“And what makes you think I won’t just do away with you before Derek breathes his last breath,” Gerard stated.

“Gerard, stop this!” Lydia yelled as she came running into view, Peter close behind her. They both skidded to a stop once Gerard’s gaze left Stiles to look at them.

“Ah, there is the little traitor,” Gerard answered. “If you wait a few moments, once Derek’s heart pumps full of wolfsbane, I’ll dispatch Scott and you’ll be next.”

“You coward,” Peter snarled under his breath.

“No, Peter, you’re the coward,” Gerard replied. “You sent Stiles after me for your own gain. You couldn’t even come after me yourself—you’ll never be able to free your sister.”

“You’ll never make it out of here,” Lydia replied. “It’s nearly sunrise, and Jon will never allow you to escape unpunished.”

Stiles ignored their angered remarks, focusing on nothing but Derek as he tried to comfort him as best as possible. He refused to accept the answer that Derek was going to die—that there was nothing else to do but wait for him to die. He searched what fractured memories he had, the countless decades he spent learning about herbs and healing from Deaton and Marin. He started to stumble upon the small handful of memories he gained from Peter, wondering if the Elder knew anything.

~*~

_Peter remained silent as he lingered by the cells, sticking to the shadows as best he could as he observed the scene before him. He knew that his nephew and the prince were doomed from the beginning, the moment they had set eyes on one another. It was easy to see the way Derek’s wolf reacted to Stiles, let alone the way his eyes lit up at the very presence of the prince. It was going to be easy for Gerard to sentence Derek to death now, and without his help, they would both die._

_Peter watched as the humans talked with Derek. He listened to their conversation—to myths he himself knew by heart and even helped form._

_“Have you heard about the children of Hale?” Jackson questioned the young curly haired one. “Immortal brother and sister. Peter, one of our Vampire Elders, was bitten by a bat, and forced to living a lonely life of immortality under the darkness of night. Talia, the first werewolf, was bitten by a wolf, and forced to live an equally lonely life as a beast. The theory Gerard fears most, is that the Hale bloodline can resist both bites without dying. In theory, Peter could be bitten by a wolf and live. And Talia and Derek could be bitten by a Vampire and live.”_

_“What would you become?”_

_“Something else,” Derek replied._

_“Half-Lycan, Half-Vampire,” Jackson stated. “Supposedly stronger than both. He’d be the only one of his kind then.”_

~*~

Stiles remembered how careful both he and Derek were whenever together. They always made sure to avoid pressing their fangs anywhere near each other’s flesh, always cautious to avoid breaking skin. Stiles had always thought it was to protect each other from possible infection, afraid that they would kill each other by forcing an opposing bite. But Derek had known that he could possibly accept the bite, merely wishing to avoid it at all costs.

Stiles turned his attentions towards Derek, noticing how far away he looked as the wolfsbane weakened him, slowly killing him from the inside. “My love,” he whispered, just hovering above Derek’s lips before he moved to press a kiss just below his ear. “I’m sorry for being selfish,” he started, holding back his grieving sob. “But I can’t lose you now that we have each other again. I pray you will forgive me for this.” He slipped his fingers over the material of Derek’s jacket and shirt, pulling the material from his shoulder. He opened his mouth, his fangs elongating as he slowly moved to bite down on the soft skin of the hollow of Derek’s neck.

Derek released a small grunt, his fingers slipping from their previously loose grip on Stiles’ arm. His eyes fell shut, his body suddenly ceasing its struggle to fight the wolfsbane as it accepted the bite of a Vampire.

Everything fell away, all noise becoming mere ambiance as Stiles focused on Derek’s heartbeat. He listened to how its normally strong rhythm fell slow before ultimately silencing. He begged for this to work, for the bite to somehow jump-start Derek’s body and not kill him.

Stiles released a small whimper when he felt a bullet pierce his back, knowing Gerard had seen what he was doing; trying to prevent Stiles from giving Derek the bite. He tried to shield Derek’s body as best he could in order to keep him safe from Gerard’s bullets. He was surprised when a hand grasped the collar of his trench coat, yanking him away from Derek’s body, ripping his fangs from Derek’s neck. He was startled as the person practically tossed him backwards into one of the several concrete pillars around them.

Stiles was thankful for Lydia coming to his aid, helping him to sit up. He looked over at Derek and noticed it was none other than Kate Argent standing over him. All accounts had stated that Kate disappeared one night after the great blaze she set centuries ago. He shouldn’t have been surprised to discover that Gerard must have stored her away somewhere safe for a night like tonight.

“Sorry I’m late,” Kate sneered. She moved to aim her gun at Derek, cocking her head to the side as she listened for a heartbeat. “Huh, I guess he can die.”

“That’s what you said last time,” Gerard snapped, pulling an arrow from his shoulder before harshly throwing it to the ground. “What took you so long?” He demanded.

“Some of his Betas gave our Death Dealers some trouble,” Kate explained, tapping her gun against her leg. “What do you want to do with the brat?” She asked as she motioned towards Stiles.

“It’s sunrise in a few minutes,” Gerard stated. “It should be a nice time for a stroll, wouldn’t you think, Stiles?”

Lydia tightened her hold on Stiles, helping him stand. She moved to make herself more of a barrier between Stiles and the Argents.

“Allison,” Gerard called to her.

Stiles noticed for the first time that Allison and Scott were nowhere to be seen. _She must have got him out while Gerard was distracted. Thank God._

“You’ll lose,” Stiles stated, stealing Gerard’s attention from looking for Allison and Scott.

“Kate,” Gerard sighed. “Put a bullet in Peter’s skull, then Lydia’s.”

Peter’s eyes glared blue, prepared to attack them both as he moved to stand in front of Lydia and Stiles. It wasn’t something Stiles expected from Peter, always confident that he would choose self-preservation over everything else.

Kate raised her gun, aiming it at Peter. She smiled at them as she cocked her gun. “I think your father will be rather easy to dispatch once we get rid of you three.”

“You only have fifteen bullets, Kate,” Peter growled. “You better hope that’s enough to stop me.”

“Then I guess I better put them where they will do the most damage,” Kate snapped back, aiming directly at Peter’s heart. “You can’t regenerate without a heart.”

Lydia’s eyes widened, her grip on Stiles tightening.

Stiles drew in a deep breath, shaking as he released it.

Peter allowed a smile to fall over his lips.

Kate narrowed her eyes as she watched them, quickly turning to look behind her.

Derek was standing, his eyes closed as he slowly rotated his head and rolled his shoulders. His eyes snapped open, his irises blacked out completely as his features morphed into his beta form. His eyebrows were built up, furrowed with rage as he bared his teeth. His features were stronger, harsher than they normally were. He had his claws bared, poised and ready to attack the threats in front of him. His skin was tinged a dark blue, as if his wolf hair had been removed from his form. His body stood taller than normal, his shoulders broader, his chest built stronger. He sucked in a deep breath, releasing a deep, feral roar as he allowed his animal to take over. His wolf was being spurred on, empowered by the Vampire bite coursing through his veins.

Kate hurried to aim her gun at Derek, stumbling as she tried to put distance between them.

Derek reacted quickly, slashing his claw through the air. The tips of his nails dug through the flesh of Kate’s throat, ripping through her esophagus and windpipe. He moved faster than his normal enhanced speed, surprising the others as his attentions focused on Gerard next. The bullets Gerard fired at him did nothing to stop Derek’s advancement towards him.

Lydia stared in awe, a hope radiating through her that Derek was about to end centuries of war with Gerard’s death. He was about to put all of their fears to an end, just as she had hoped he would all those years ago.

Gerard released a cry of pain when Derek buried his claws deep in his shoulder, causing him to drop his gun.

Derek released Gerard from his grip, only to wrap his clawed hand around Gerard’s throat. He slammed the Elder against the wall, pinning him as he slowly tightened his grip. He reached his free hand out, digging his claws into Gerard’s chest. He could only think of one thing: dismembering everything Gerard was. He had given over to his wolf—an animal who spent centuries grieving because of Gerard, and wanted vengeance for what was done.

“Derek,” Stiles softly called his name. He wasn’t surprised that his voice broke Derek’s concentration, pulling his thoughts from killing the man.

Derek turned his head to see Stiles staring at him, eyes pleading with him. He turned his attention back to Gerard, releasing a displeased huff of dismissal before releasing him into a heap on the floor. He turned back to Stiles, walking away from Gerard. He paused by Stiles, hesitating as he looked down at him.

Stiles worried his bottom lip, reaching a hand up to touch Derek’s face. He paused when Derek slightly recoiled. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s okay,” he confidently repeated as his fingertips caressed Derek’s skin.

Derek turned his head away from Stiles’ touch, completely shying away from his warmth. He released a faint whine when Stiles pursued him, cupping his face in his hands.

“Please, my love, don’t turn away from me,” Stiles begged, turning Derek’s face to look at him. “You’re not a monster.”

“Yes he is,” Gerard harshly snapped as he struggled to heal from the wounds Derek gave him.

Derek released a low growl upon hearing Gerard’s voice, causing Stiles to gently shush him, his fingertips caressing his skin in order to calm him.

“No,” Stiles replied to Gerard. “No, he’s not.” His hands moved to rest on Derek’s arms, holding him in place as he kept his eyes on Derek. “He’s not,” he repeated, turning his attention to Gerard. “But I am,” he dangerously uttered as his fangs elongated, his eyes burning their icy blue.

Stiles let his hands slip from Derek, moving to walk towards Gerard. He grabbed Gerard by the collar, hauling him up close. “Then again, me and you—we're both monsters,” he breathed as he tightened his grasp on Gerard’s arm, extending it as far as possible. “Maybe I’ll redeem myself by ridding the world of you.” He quickly moved, sinking his teeth into Gerard’s arm, draining as many memories from him as possible.

Stiles released Gerard’s arm, pushing him back onto the floor. “Your biggest mistake was trying to stop me from realizing my love for Derek. Now, you have no cards left, Gerard. You can’t control me, and you never could.” He turned his attentions from him. He was surprised to find Derek back in human form as he stared down at his hands, willing the claws to retract. He slowly moved forward, reaching a hand out to hold Derek’s.

Derek closed his eyes, hesitating in looking at Stiles before he opened his eyes to look down at their interlaced fingers. He ran his fingertips over Stiles’ hand, focusing on feeling his existence. The strength of his hand, the nimbleness of his long fingers, the softness of his palm—all were things Derek had spent countless nights memorizing centuries ago.

Stiles reached his hand up, gentling Derek’s face up to look at him. He ran his fingers along Derek’s cheek before settling in his hair. He smiled when Derek pressed in close, resting their foreheads together.

“I know where your mother is,” Stiles barely whispered against Derek’s lips. “And I know who I am,” he added in a breath of happiness.

Derek remained silent as he pressed his lips against Stiles, his arms wrapping around him in order to hold him close. He didn’t care about Gerard anymore; he didn’t care about making it through the years anymore. Stiles was the only thing that mattered, and he was back in his arms.

Stiles moved to pull back, remembering that he still had Gerard’s blood staining his mouth, only to have Derek’s mouth follow after him. He let Derek pull him closer, both of them opening their mouths to the other.

When Derek was confident that the tang of Gerard’s blood was completely absent from Stiles’ mouth, he finally pulled back. He placed another light kiss against Stiles lips before completely releasing him.

“And what do we do with Gerard?” Peter’s voice broke through the silence surrounding them.

“Jon will have him tried and convicted,” Lydia answered. “No one will miss him.”

Gerard scoffed as he tried to lean against the wall, his injuries not healing as fast as they normally would.

“It’s sunrise,” Derek started, slipping his hand into Stiles’ as he rested his forehead against his temple. With a deep intake, he breathed in the comforting smell of Stiles’ scent—a scent he dreamed about having consume him once more for centuries. He turned his attention away from Stiles, looking at Gerard’s injured form. “It should be a nice time for a stroll, wouldn’t you think, _Gerard_?”

Peter smiled upon hearing Derek used Gerard’s own words against him.

Derek looked to Stiles, unwilling to loosen his grip on him as he held him close.

Stiles silently looked at Derek before giving a small, affirming nod.

Derek pressed a delicate kiss to Stiles forehead before he released him, accepting his judgment.

Stiles, Lydia, and Peter watched from the shadows of the subway’s entrance, surrounded by the remnants of Derek’s Lycans, as Derek dragged Gerard outside.

Nobody protested the judgment, all having lost something irreplaceable at the hands of Gerard.

Derek left him tied to one of the many strong trees, allowing Gerard’s own preferred method of punishment to be his end. He moved back to wait with Stiles and the others as the sun rose.

Lydia tightly clasped Jackson’s hand as they watched. She watched as centuries of wrongs were avenged with the death of a single monster.

Derek and Stiles clung to one another as they watched. Stiles pressed his cheek against Derek’s shoulder, digging his fingernails into Derek’s back as images of his own death flickered across his mind. Derek rested his own cheek against the top of Stiles’ head, tightening his hold on Stiles with every dig of Stiles’ fingernails he felt.

No one turned away until the smoke had completely evaporated and the sun stood high in the sky.

~*~

Sleep became a small remnant of his mind, completely unimportant as Derek turned onto his stomach to hug his pillow. He nuzzled his face into the plush material, recalling the previous events.

Stiles was alive. Gerard was dead. Peter finally knew the location of Talia’s prison, thanks to Stiles. Lydia had reported everything to Jon. Jon had pardoned Scott and Allison—wherever they were—as well as ordered an end to the killing. All the pieces were falling into place.

He ran his fingers along the bed’s sheets as he sought out the other body he knew would be there, only to have his fingers reach the edge of the bed instead. He startled, his head jerking up from the pillow as his eyes searched blurrily for Stiles.

 _It was real. He’s alive. Calm down_. He repeated an endless mantra of demanding that he stay calm. He refused to let the fear build up inside him like it did for decades after what happened that night.

Derek tossed the sheets back from his body, nakedly scrambling from the bed as he scanned the room. It was his loft, the one he had barely used over the years in order to avoid detection. He moved to the dresser, ripping open one of the doors before yanking on a pair of spare sweatpants. He froze his steps when he caught sight of an unfamiliar trench coat hanging over the chair in the corner of the room. He slowly moved forward, afraid to reach his hand out to grasp the leather material, almost certain it would disappear just like its owner had. But the material was real against his fingertips, cold to the touch but still smelling like Stiles.

Derek released his hold on the coat, dropping it back into its place as he moved out into the living room. He noticed the rays of sunlight streaming through the giant window, revealing that the dusk sun was almost setting.

That was when Derek caught sight of Stiles standing on the balcony, just outside the door. His heart hammered loudly when he noticed that Stiles was just standing within the shadow the building cast, sunlight threatening to touch him with every passing second.

Stiles didn’t notice Derek as he clutched the blanket closer to his chest, cautiously offering his hand forward as he submerged it into the sunlight.

“Stiles!” Derek yelled his name in panic, catching the younger man’s attention.

Stiles startled, drawing his hand back as he looked back through the window to see a terror-filled Derek. “I’m okay,” he quickly stated, trying to calm Derek as he moved towards the balcony’s door.

“Stiles, come back inside,” Derek quickly stated as he held the door open, reaching for Stiles’ hand.

“Derek, it’s okay,” Stiles replied, turning to face him as he held his back to the encroaching sunlight.

“Not until you’re away from the sunlight, it’s not,” Derek sternly replied, reaching for Stiles’ arm, only to miss when Stiles pulled out of his reach. “Stiles!”

“Do you trust me?” Stiles calmly asked.

“What?” Derek questioned, looking at Stiles as if he was absurd.

“Do you trust me, Derek?” Stiles asked again.

“You know I do,” Derek replied. “Whole heartedly.”

“Then _trust_ me,” Stiles answered. “I knew you’d never let me try if you were awake, so I tried while you were sleeping.”

“Tried what?” Derek asked in earnest, his eyes constantly flickering to the sunlight at Stiles’ back.

“This,” Stiles replied, closing his eyes as he took a confident step back into the sunlight.

Derek took a faltering step forward, his deepest fears being met as the sun kissed Stiles’ skin. He halted, eyes widening in disbelief as Stiles stood in the sunlight, completely unharmed. The sunlight caught a glint of the pendant wrapped around Stiles' neck. “How … Stiles, how is this possible?”

Stiles smiled as he blinkingly opened his eyes to look at Derek. “This was Peter’s gift—to both of us, for helping him.”

“He gave you his blood,” Derek stated in disbelief at what he was seeing, closing the gap between them. “So you could be immortal _and_ walk in the sunlight.”

“So we wouldn’t lose each other again,” Stiles corrected. He reached his hand out, taking Derek’s as he pulled him towards him and the sunlight. “So that we could have each other’s eternities,” he softly concluded.

Derek willingly stepped into the fading light, bringing his hands up to cup Stiles’ face. He ran his thumb across his cheekbone, studying Stiles’ features in the sunlight for the first time.

“I never knew this is what the sun felt like,” Stiles released a shaky breath as he pressed his forehead against Derek’s. “To not fear it—to hold you while basking in its warmth,” he added as he pulled Derek closer, wrapping his arms around his waist.

“I only care that I get to hold you, whether it’s in the sun’s light or not,” Derek replied, closing his eyes as he accepted the comforting weight of Stiles’ body in his arms.

“I love you,” Stiles breathed with adoration as he pressed into Derek’s body. He had long-forgotten the blanket, having allowed it to fall from his body before leaning into Derek’s kiss.

“As I love you,” Derek replied with a smile as he captured Stiles’ mouth with his own.

Neither of them cared to pay attention to the sun’s retreating form, lost in the feeling of each other as they tried to make up for the centuries stolen from them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scallison shippers, do not stress! I haven't forgotten about them, they just managed to slip away from the insanity (perhaps they ran away to France, who knows). They will definitely have a presence in the Epilogue.
> 
> And a surprise appearance by Kate Argent. Because when you need another baddy, she's the one to go to.
> 
> Also, side note: it's not explained in this chapter, but is revisited in the Epilogue--Derek will always be a Lycan/immortal because he is a born immortal, being a Hale. Scott's blood derives a cure from it that attacks the Vampire and Lycan gene of those infected afterwards. Because Derek can't take the cure and be mortal, Stiles decides not to take the cure either. Just in case you are confused as to why Stiles would still be a Vampire if he could be human--it's so he can be with his cuddly Der-Bear for eternity.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the story so far. Just the Epilogue to go! It's a good one, trust me <3


	7. Epilogue: To Look Upon Their Faces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What an amazingly fun ride! Thank you all for your support and love throughout, it really made struggling with this fic worth it. I loved where it ended up and the twist and turns it took away from _Underworld_ 's canon, (mostly because I'm a sucker for a happy ending).
> 
> As of right now, this is the end of the series. I am happy with where it is at, and feel great closing the chapter of this story arc here.
> 
> Anyways, thank you for all your love and I hope you enjoy this! <3

Sometimes, when Derek had nothing better to do, he found himself staring at Stiles. His eyes lingered on Stiles’ form as he did mundane activities—flipping through a book, picking up the random pieces of laundry strewn around their bedroom, the way his head tipped to the side as he lost himself in thought. They were all stolen moments—individual incidents that made Derek’s heart flutter and chest tighten at the thought of all the time they lost over the decades.

Stiles, for his part, wasn’t ignorant of the eyes following him. He tried to pretend he couldn’t see Derek, which worked most of the time. But there were sometimes when Stiles would turn his head to look at Derek, a small smile crossing his lips, knowing exactly what Derek was thinking.

There were some times, when they reached for each other in the middle of the night, that their touches felt brand new—as if the years they lost were just now being filled in. Those were moments they both cherished.

On the quiet nights, Stiles would be stuck awake as different memories plagued his mind. Images of Derek’s mother and the prison she was forced into continuing to constantly change—a final trick on Gerard’s behalf.

On those nights, Stiles would watch Derek sleep. He rested on his side, easily tracing the curves of Derek’s face. He frowned whenever Derek would emit a faint whimper, his body slightly moving in protest to his dream. Stiles would ease his fingertips over Derek’s furrowed brow, pushing away the uneasiness as best he could. He moved to press his fingers through Derek’s chest hair, savoring the feeling of having Derek beneath his palms. He’d press his cheek against Derek’s chest, thankful when Derek’s hold on him tightened in response. The action grounded them both, reminding them that they were real and that Gerard couldn’t hurt them anymore.

On the bad nights, Stiles always woke up screaming as Derek’s arms pulled him out of his night terrors. He tightly gripped Derek’s arms, thankful for their support as he eased his breathing. He tried to assure Derek that he was fine, forcing a small smile or pretending that he wasn’t exhausted the next day. He clung to that belief long enough—until Derek reached out to the others in hope of fixing it all.

~*~

Derek placed delicate kisses across Stiles’ shoulder blade, smiling to himself as he followed the moles trailing up and over Stiles’ neck. He continued his actions even as Stiles started to squirm awake, turning in his arms.

Stiles sleepily smiled as he barely blinked his eyes open. “Good morning,” he quietly greeted Derek with a faint smile crossing his lips. He pressed a gentle kiss to Derek’s lips, curling himself even closer.

“Morning, sleepy head,” Derek murmured against Stiles’ tousled hair.

“You don’t have to go anywhere today, right?” Stiles tiredly asked against Derek’s throat as he nuzzled into the hollow of his shoulder.

Derek couldn’t stop his chest from purring as his wolf welcomed the contact. His wolf yipped and howled in excitement as it ran through a mantra of _Stiles_ and _mate_ and _home_ , things he was convinced he lost. “Not if you don’t want me to,” he answered.

“Lazy Sunday it is,” Stiles stated against Derek’s Adam’s apple, peppering small kisses underneath his jaw.

“It’s Friday, Stiles,” Derek softly corrected him.

“We’ll just have to be lazy until Sunday, then,” Stiles answered, pulling back from his hiding spot to look at Derek. He placed on last kiss on Derek’s lips before speaking. “I’m going to take a bath,” he explained as he pulled out of Derek’s reach, slipping out from underneath the covers.

Derek moved onto his back, folding his arms behind his head as he watched Stiles head for the bathroom.

“I expect you to join me,” Stiles added as he looked over his shoulder at Derek, slowly slipping into the bathroom.

Derek quickly threw the sheets back, making his way to the bathroom. He easily pulled Stiles into his arms, holding him tightly against his bare chest.

Stiles smiled as he his body melted into Derek’s touch, moving his head to give Derek better access to his neck.

Derek gently nuzzled along the hollow of Stiles’ throat, grazing his beard across the delicate skin there. He pressed his nose against the back of Stiles’ ear, closing his eyes as he savored the feeling of Stiles’ hair brushing against his face; basking in Stiles’ scent overpowering his senses.

Stiles smoothed his hands over Derek’s forearms, gently dragging his nails against his skin. He released a faint groan when Derek let his hands roam across his lower body.

They made love on the bathroom floor, the idea of taking a bath become an afterthought.

Derek clung to Stiles, burying his face in the hollow of Stiles’ throat. He gently nipped at Stiles’ clavicle, careful not to break his skin. He sucked on his skin, appreciating the light bruising it held before quickly disappearing back to its beautiful pale tone.

Stiles writhed against Derek’s body, his fingernails leaving small crescent shapes in Derek’s skin as he marked him. He curled his hands into Derek’s hair, releasing small encouragements as his hips canted against Derek’s.

Derek felt overwhelmed by the constant praise falling from Stiles’ lips, spurring his movements onward. He felt weak, completely susceptible, to the words Stiles breathed with every roll of his hips. He craved them—needed them—having been deprived of them for centuries. He pressed his face into Stiles’ chest, his arms wrapped tightly around his waist as he continued his rhythm.

Stiles ran his hands down Derek’s back, clutching tightly to his muscles as he ignored the small burn the bathroom rug was causing on the top of his ass as Derek’s pace quickened. He didn’t care though, he even enjoyed it more as he embraced the ache as proving it was real—they were real.

Stiles cried out when he finally came, rambling pleas for Derek to keep going tumbled from his lips as his body trembled against Derek’s. His panting was heavy as he started to consciously process the aftermath. He gingerly ran his fingers through Derek’s hair, loving the delicate roll of Derek’s hips as he still moved inside him, seeking his own release.

“Keep going,” Stiles softly spoke against the shell of Derek’s ear. “Come on, Derek, come for me.” He reached his hands between them, lifting Derek’s head from its hiding place against his chest. He felt his own eyes flash blue in reaction to the sight before him: Derek’s eyes were burning their deep crimson, his pupils completely blown; his lips were barely covering his fangs, almost completely shifted into his altered form.

“I love you,” Stiles breathed, closing the gap between their lips.

That pushed Derek over the edge. He released a moan, swearing as his hips halted their movement, stilling inside Stiles as he let the last waves of his orgasm quake through him.

Stiles allowed his limbs to fall limp, remaining spread eagle with Derek still settled between his thighs. He ran his fingers through Derek’s hair, the pads of his fingertips massaging his scalp as they both steadied their breathing.

Derek kept his head resting against Stiles’ chest, reveling in the faint drumming of Stiles’ heartbeat just beneath his ear. He closed his eyes as he listened to the soothing rhythm.

Stiles was the first to break the silence. “We really need to shower, now.”

Derek released a small chuckle, pushing himself up onto his elbows. He smiled as he looked up at Stiles. He placed a gentle kiss on Stiles’ chest before finally pulling out of Stiles. He slowly climbed to his feet, pulling Stiles with him.

Stiles partially groaned, almost wishing to nap on the floor opposed to actually standing.

“Shower than bath,” Derek answered Stiles discontentment with a peck on the tip of his nose.

They actually managed to shower, cleaning themselves of yesterday’s weariness and this morning’s pleasures. Stiles smiled when Derek actually moved to grab the scented bubble bath. It wasn’t until they were completely lax in the tub, Stiles’ back pressed against Derek’s chest, that Stiles playfully taunted him.

“You have scented bubble bath,” Stiles cooed as he picked up the bottle in question.

Derek merely grumbled in response, the vibrations from his chest causing Stiles to wiggle his body even closer. Regardless of all his attempts, he couldn’t fool Stiles—Stiles knew he was a great big teddy bear when it came to him.

“‘Rose and Chamomile Natural Bubble Bath’,” Stiles read from the bottle. He mumbled the product details to himself, actually releasing a giggle when he reached the last sentence. “‘Give your skin a bouquet of Roses and some extra love with this renewing bubble bath. Renew yourself with love’.”

Derek released another grumble, keeping his eyes shut as he allowed his head to rest against the lip of the tub.

“This sounds like something Lydia would own,” Stiles commented.

“She recommended it,” Derek answered.

“You’re taking bubble bath advice from Lydia?” Stiles asked as he dropped the bottle back onto the bathroom floor, relaxing against Derek’s chest. He idly played with the small suds floating on the surface of the water.

“When I spoke to her about your night terrors,” Derek reluctantly stated. “She recommended small, home remedies, as ways to help you out.”

Stiles nodded, a small smile falling over his features. “Thank you.”

Derek answered by shifting his body enough to let Stiles fall even more against his chest, wrapping a protective arm around Stiles.

Stiles closed his eyes as his whole body lost all its stress, easily becoming pliant through the bubbles soft aroma. He rested his head against Derek’s shoulder, listening to his softs breaths exhaling beside his ear. His thoughts started to drift, thinking about their next course of action if he was to be rid of the night terrors. He barely noticed the lullaby he started to hum, forgetting where he learnt it as its melody overtook his vocals.

Derek slowly opened his eyes, listening to Stiles’ humming. Something was familiar about the tune, catching him off guard. It made him think of the forest, of the night sky, of a soft pelt keeping him warm from the bitter cold. It made him think of red eyes that faded to a green that matched his own. He thought of the soft growls and purrs he often dreamed of when he was young, alone and scared as he cowered under Gerard’s _mercy_. The melody followed the rhythm of the lupine growls that calmed him during the haze of his first full moons.

“Stiles,” Derek weakly called his name.

“Hm?” Stiles hummed as he let the lullaby fall from his lips.

“Where did you learn that?” Derek cautiously asked.

“The lullaby?” Stiles asked, unaware of just how affected Derek was. “I don’t know, I just woke up knowing it, I guess.” He opened his eyes once he felt how rigid Derek’s body had become. He turned his head to catch sight of Derek’s face. “Is everything okay?”

Derek continued to stare off to the side, his mind lost in remembering memories from far sooner than he could recall.

“Derek—” A loud, banging knock on the loft door cause Stiles and Derek to turn their attentions away from one another.

“I’ll get it,” Derek answered, easily slipping out from behind Stiles when he leaned forward.

Stiles’ eyes followed Derek as he easily wiped himself off before slipping into a pair of sweatpants. He worried his bottom lip as Derek went to answer the door, trying to decipher where he heard the lullaby—unfortunately, to no avail.

Stiles groaned as he realized it was useless as he tried to sort through both Gerard and Peter’s memories, as well as his own. He quickly pushed himself up from the tub when he felt the waves of panic coming from Derek, sensing them even under the calm he was trying to emit. He didn’t bother with clothes, merely wrapping a towel around his waist as he exited into the bedroom.

That was how he found Scott standing at the threshold, begging Derek to come in and speak with them. He spoke in hushed tones, trying to persuade Derek to trust him, only to have Derek completely block his way.

“Scott?” Stiles questioned as he walked forward from the bedroom, recognizing the human’s voice almost instantly.

“Stiles, don’t,” Derek warned as he turned to face him.

“Derek, let him in,” Stiles insisted, knowing that Scott would have news of Allison, if not more.

Derek looked away from Stiles, remaining an obstacle between Scott and the loft as he continued to silently ignore all attempts at allowing Scott in the room.

“Derek,” Stiles almost huffed, his eyebrows furrowing as he tried to determine what they could be discussing.

“Let me help,” Scott pleaded from behind Derek’s shoulder.

“We’re happy how we are,” Derek bit back, acting as if Scott was a salesman trying to sell them some atrocious merchandise.

“Allison did some research,” Scott looked to Stiles as he continued to talk, despite Derek’s death glare. “She found the blueprints for Talia’s prison. She discovered how to unlock it.”

“We’re busy, Scott,” Derek nearly threatened through clenched teeth.

“It’s your pendant,” Scott finally stated, ignoring Derek. “That’s why Gerard was so infuriated by you being with Derek—even more so when he realized Derek had taken it.”

“He used the pendant because he knew I’d never leave my father’s sight,” Stiles answered, shaking his head.

“Deaton said that following after these memories may make them disappear,” Scott answered. “They’ll fade and stop haunting Stiles’ every moment.”

“At what cost?” Derek snapped. “My mother can’t be controlled, or did you forget that piece of information?”

Stiles furrowed his eyebrows, not understanding Derek’s sudden hostility towards his mother. “What does Allison think?” He cautiously asked Scott, bypassing Derek directly.

“She wants to help,” Scott partially frowned. “Even though … even though we’re both human, we both decided we want to help. You’re going to need my blood, right?”

Derek bristled at the mention of Scott’s blood.

Stiles and Derek had gotten into a fight about the cure. Even if Derek took the cure Deaton derived from Scott’s blood, he would still be immortal. Scott’s blood somehow didn’t cancel out the original immortality gene the Hale bloodline perfected. The bite from a Hale granted immortality in the form of a wolf or bat, but once Scott’s blood had been introduced, it reversed those affects, leaving the person mortal once more. As a result, Stiles refused to take it.

Stiles argued with Derek that it was pointless for him to take the cure, only robbing them of spending an eternity together. Derek’s initial fear of Stiles still being susceptible to sunlight had eroded away when Stiles first stepped out into the sun’s setting rays. Stiles eventually made Derek see the error in taking the cure—Derek would be immortal regardless, so why condemn Stiles to having a short life of mortality?

Allison on the other hand, gladly accepted the cure. She embraced the ability to be human once more in hopes of having the life her mother always hoped she would have—the life Gerard robbed her of. She was happier now, content in putting her aiming skills to use in competitions rather than life or death situations. She was happy being with Scott and finding value in their day-to-day routine. She was, however, sorrowful to think of having to leave Stiles behind one day, but she understood his decision to remain a Vampire in order to be with Derek.

When Derek first reached out to the others about Stiles’ night terrors, Allison was the first he informed. Everyone had worked tirelessly to try and help free Stiles from those dreadful hauntings, but the hard work was only now paying off.

“Tell Allison that Derek and I need to talk about this first,” Stiles managed as he closed the gap between them. He hovered next to Derek, uncertain if he should lay a hand on him. “I’ll call,” he added, hoping Scott would realize that leaving would be the best course of action.

Scott hesitantly nodded, backing away from the door. “Whatever you choose,” he started. “We’re willing to help.”

Derek slid the loft door shut with more force than necessary. He released a sharp sigh, turning to walk further into the loft.

Stiles idly flicked his thumb along the edge of his towel, trying to understand Derek’s reaction towards Scott.

“You can’t go,” Derek finally uttered.

Stiles frowned, watching Derek lean against the back of the couch, his arms locked against the piece of furniture as his shoulder blades rigidly hunched. “Why?” He softly asked, walking closer to Derek.

“Because this is putting us right back in the middle of the war,” Derek replied.

“The war is over, Derek,” Stiles explained. “I owe Peter this—for giving me the strength to get to you, to overcome Gerard.”

“You owe no one anything, Stiles,” Derek weakly answered as he let his head hang.

Stiles moved behind Derek, wrapping his arms around his waist as he rested his cheek against Derek’s shoulder. “Then think of this as a gift—from me to you. I can give you your mother back, _and_ I can get rid of these nightmares.”

Derek closed his eyes, allowing Stiles’ words to sink into him.

“I promise you,” Stiles began as he pressed a kiss into Derek’s back. “I am always going to fight for us—for what you deserve. I have to do this, Derek. You can help me, or let me go alone. No matter what, we’ll come back here, and we’ll be together.”

Derek weakly nodded, allowing Stiles to slip away from him as he headed towards the bedroom. “You’re the only thing I ever wanted,” he quietly admitted to himself, knowing Stiles wouldn’t hear him.

~*~

“I still don’t agree with this,” Derek huffed, following behind Stiles as he slowly made a path through the trees.

“Noted, just as with the last twenty times you said so,” Stiles replied as he remained focused on the memories.

“You could have given Peter the memory and had him go alone,” Derek stated.

“So uneager to find your mother?” Peter playfully questioned as he sped up to walk beside his nephew.

“I’m uneager to find what state she is in,” Derek replied through gritted teeth.

“Stop fighting,” Stiles shushed them both. He rolled his eyes as he trudged through the woods, following in the footsteps of Gerard’s memories. He paused as his eyes scanned the woods, looking for the correct path.

Derek ignored Peter as he moved to walk beside Stiles. He reached his hands out to touch Stiles’ shoulder when he noticed the tension forming there. He wasn’t surprised when Stiles lurched from him, apologizing as he shook his head.

“I’m fine, it’s just a lot to take in,” Stiles answered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You shouldn’t push yourself,” Derek replied.

“I can see it,” Stiles explained. “As if it’s right there in front of me. And then it vanishes. It’s Gerard’s last attempt to stop us from succeeding,” he sighed in exasperation.

“Once this is done,” Derek started, turning Stiles to face him, wrapping his arms around him as Stiles leaned into his chest. “We’ll spend the next week together. Just us.”

“Just us,” Stiles sighed, a small smile settling over his lips. “Sounds nice,” he uttered against Derek’s lips.

“Don’t mean to interrupt your moment, but could we hurry this along?” Peter impatiently questioned.

Derek released an exasperated sigh, turning his head to glare at his uncle.

Stiles placed a small kiss on Derek’s cheek as he slipped from his grasp.

~*~

Talia’s prison was part of the underground network of tunnels beneath an abandoned church. The structure was giant, containing hidden passages and secret doors that lead to various dead ends and even looped back to the beginning.

Gerard’s memories had started to become clearer than before—the further Stiles ventured, the easier it was to burden them. They all halted in front of an ornately carved door bearing the Hale coat of arms.

Stiles watched as Derek ran his fingertips over the door, tracing the outline of his family’s crest. He offered him a small smile when he looked back to Stiles. It was Peter who spoke first, breaking the silence they shared over the past hour.

“Stiles should remain back,” Peter explained.

Stiles allowed his face to twist into a look of displeasure as he spoke. “I’m not—”

“I agree,” Derek concurred with Peter, cutting off Stiles’ argument.

“I don’t,” Stiles immediately protested. He grew furious when both Peter and Derek appeared to ignore him. “I’m going with you.”

“No, you’re not,” Derek answered.

“What makes you both so special?”

“Literally the fact that we are part of the only family whose blood allows them to survive being bitten by both species,” Peter sighed in an exasperated tone, a look of annoyance falling over him.

Derek moved to take Stiles to the side, speaking in a softer tone as he tried to avoid Peter butting into the conversation.

“I need to do this,” Derek answered. “Just me and not you.”

“Why?” Stiles asked in anger as he crossed his arms over his chest. “We’re stronger together, you know that. Allison’s outside as backup—she’d never let anything happen to me.”

“Stiles, I need to do this by myself—without you,” Derek insisted, his voice rougher than before as he held himself back.

“Why?” Stiles demanded. “I want to help get your mother back—I always have, Derek. From the first moment we spoke about freedom, I wanted to free you and your mother.”

“I have to do this for myself, Stiles. Please understand,” Derek replied.

“For _yourself_?” Stiles incredulously asked. “What, is this a power trip of some kind? You have to prove that you’re still in control?”

“No!” Derek angrily answered.

“Then, what?” Stiles quickly asked.

“I’m not strong enough, Stiles,” Derek breathed, avoiding all eye contact with him.

Stiles felt a chill of anger bristle through his spine. “And what? This will make you stronger? Finding your mother and facing her will somehow—what? Prove that you’re the strongest Lycan?”

“No, I—”

“God, Derek, what could be so important that you’d—”

“I can’t lose you again, Stiles!” Derek suddenly yelled as he looked up at him.

Stiles stared at Derek, completely lost for words as he let Derek’s statement sink in.

“I’m not—I can’t handle it,” Derek weakly explained, letting his head hang. “I can’t do it again. I can’t watch you get hurt—die—because of me. Because I’m not strong enough to protect what I love.”

“Derek, you won’t lose—”

“Don’t,” Derek quickly uttered. “Don’t tell me I won’t lose you, because you can’t promise that. I’ve suffered centuries knowing you were dead because of me—centuries more not knowing you were alive. And I’m not going to make the same mistake of risking you for anyone.”

“Then what? You want to kill your mother if it means protecting me from her?” Stiles quietly asked.

“If she can’t be changed or controlled … I have to put an end to her suffering, Stiles,” Derek answered. “Please, just …” He slowly ran his fingertips along Stiles’ arms, their touch barely ghosting over Stiles’ skin but still managing to pull small shivers from them both. “Stay back here.”

Stiles wanted to argue, call Derek irrational, but deep down he knew Derek wouldn’t leave him unless he promised. He knew that after it all, he owed Derek the right to face his mother on his own. He reluctantly recanted his decision to follow after Derek, giving into his request. He nodded, reaching his hands up to cup Derek’s cheeks in his palms as he kissed him. It was soft and sweet, filled to the brink with urgency and need, with a hint of melancholy in their scents when they finally pulled apart from one another.

Stiles slid his hand into Derek’s, pressing the cold metal of his pendant into Derek’s palm. He gave him a small, reassuring smile as he let him slip from his grasp. He remained by the entrance, his eyes lingering on Derek’s form as he retreated into the inner chamber, following after Peter.

~*~

Derek ran his fingertips over Stiles’ pendant, still familiar with every curve and twist of the metal from the centuries he spent observing it. He looked from Peter to the prison door, uncertain if he should unleash whatever Gerard had locked away. Talia was clearly something to fear if Gerard decided to cage her as opposed to utilizing her for his own needs. He quickly inserted the pendant, turning the mechanism before backing away from the opening door. He slid the pendant back into his pocket as he waited beside Peter.

Both of them took a step back when they heard a deep echo from within, the sound of a pad full of claws clacking against the emptiness. The sound grew louder—quicker—before they caught sight of a dark pelt bleeding out from the darkness.

The giant wolf released a bellowing roar, causing both Derek and Peter to wince and recoil. It advanced towards them, allowing both men to back out of its reach. The wolf turned its head to examine its surroundings, evaluating the quickest escape route. It snarled as Peter made a move to reach out to it.

Peter calmly held his hand in place as he practically cooed, “Talia. It’s Peter.”

The wolf snarled in response, its tongue flicking over its fangs before its eyes darted towards Derek. It huffed, snapping its jaws as it paced in front of both men.

Stiles slid to a halt by the door when he saw the wolf, having abandoned his post the minute he heard the roar. His eyes fell on Derek, knowing he would be angry with him if he moved forward—if he placed himself in danger.

“Mom,” Derek softly called, his voice weak and unsure.

The wolf immediately turned to look at Derek, cocking its head to the side as it evaluated him. It moved closer, ignoring Peter and Stiles in favor for encroaching Derek’s personal space. It sniffed the air, leaning in to run its nose along Derek’s hair, carefully tracing around his facial features before huffing. It growled, an uncertain look gracing its now green eyes.

Derek remembered those green eyes and inky fur. He remembered how he would cry from the cold until the familiar warmth of _Alpha_ would wrap around him. He remembered the lullaby his mother purred and rumbled to ease him asleep.

Derek allowed his wolf to take control, partially shifting into his beta form to allow his vocals to change. He sung the soft rumbles and purrs following the same melody Stiles had hummed a few nights ago.

Peter turned his attention towards Derek, shocked at the sound of the lullaby. “Our mother sang that to us,” he spoke in a hushed tone.

“And my mother sang it to me,” Derek answered when he noticed the wolf easing from its hostile stance. He continued to softly hum before slowly reaching his hand up, his fingertips easing into the wolf’s fur pelt. He was surprised that it pushed into his touch, welcoming it as the soft rumble left its chest in response to the melody.

“Mom,” Derek finally stated again, catching the wolf’s attention. He let his beta form melt away, retaking his human form once again. “It’s me—your son. It’s … Derek.”

The wolf eyed Derek for several moments before rearing its head back to release a sorrowful howl. The howl caused something to constrict in Derek’s chest, his wolf whining in response. It was the howl of a mourning wolf—a lost soul looking for its pack. Its eyes dashed towards Peter, uncertain what to make of both men.

“We want to help you,” Peter explained. “Let us help you, Talia.”

The wolf turned its attention back towards Derek, pressing its face into his chest as it rested all its trust in him.

Derek looked at Peter, quickly nodding in confirmation for Peter to act.

The wolf roared when Peter injected the needle into its side, causing the animal to snap its fangs towards the source. It whimpered as it bit at the spot, feeling scared and betrayed.

The others watched on in wonder as the wolf’s joints snapped and creaked, its form shrinking completely. It curled onto the ground, trying to escape the pain of transforming into something else.

Derek almost stumbled back when he realized the wolf began to lose its fur, revealing a smaller, fragile human form. His eyes dashed towards Peter, realizing that his uncle was just as shocked—yet relieved—that their plan worked.

Peter moved first, placing his coat around Talia’s shoulders, holding her against his chest as he wrapped her body in the material. He pressed soft kisses into her hair as he murmured words of joy at having her there—small words of praise and infinite happiness at having his sister back.

It took her a few minutes to find her voice, but eventually, it cracked as she willed her vocal chords to focus on a language besides growls. She slowly looked up, catching sight of Derek still glued to his spot as he stared at her with wide eyes and disbelief.

“Derek,” Talia gently called his name, wincing as her throat tingled from the foreign sounds she was making.

Derek stumbled the few necessary steps forward, his knees hitting the floor as he fell to the ground in front of his mother.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Talia’s voice cracked as she reached a hand out to cup Derek’s cheek. “I never—I never thought … I thought I lost you,” she confessed with tears in her eyes.

“I thought I’d never know you,” Derek echoed as he pressed his cheek into her welcoming palm.

Stiles moved forward, placing a comforting hand on Derek’s shoulder. Derek smiled to himself, feeling completely at ease. For the first time in his life, Derek felt completely wanted and truly loved.

In the end, Gerard lost.

Derek was free.

He had his family.

He had his pack.

He had his mate.

Derek loved, and was loved in return. He could look upon their faces for the first time in hopeful light.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to join me on tumblr:
> 
> [drunklightning](http://drunklightning.tumblr.com) is my blog where I reblog anything I find of interest.
> 
> [dexterous-sinistrous](http://dexterous-sinistrous.tumblr.com) is suited towards my ramblings about my writing, and NSFW. (It's where I serenade myself about Sterek). It's my trashcan of emotions. Feel free to stop by and say hi, criticize me, make incoherent noises with me, whatevs.
> 
> [Send](http://dexterous-sinistrous.tumblr.com/ask) me any prompts you think you'd like to have me write!


End file.
